


Sorry If You're Starstruck

by heyjupiter



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Addiction, Alternate Universe - Hollywood, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Carol Danvers/James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Minor Pepper Potts/Natasha Romanov, Recovery, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-09-16 02:05:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 60,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16944912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyjupiter/pseuds/heyjupiter
Summary: While recovering from an on-set injury (and the resultant problem with painkillers), billionaire playboy genius filmmaker Tony Stark sets his eyes on his next project--an adaptation of the Gamma Garcia books, a widely beloved young adult sci-fi series. The books' notoriously reclusive author, Bruce Banner, rejects all film offers, but he reluctantly accepts Tony's friendship. Their bond deepens into something more, even as personal and professional setbacks threaten their chance at a Hollywood happy ending.





	1. Honey, I Rose Up From The Dead, I Do It All The Time

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally inspired by the Flufftober prompt "books" but it spiraled out of control and went well past the deadlines for Flufftober. Welcome to...Hurt/comfortcember?
> 
> Thanks to my trusty beta reader volunteerfd for keeping me going with this!
> 
> Title is from the Kesha song "Hymn." All the chapter titles are from various pop divas.
> 
> Content note: this work contains references to past child abuse and past suicide attempts. These mentions are not explicit and I consider them to be roughly equivalent to the similar references in the PG-13 MCU (although the circumstances are different.)

Filmmaker Tony Stark in Critical Condition After On-Set Accident 

MARRAKECH--Writer-director Tony Stark is in critical condition at the Clinique Internationale De Marrakech after falling from a 100-foot scaffold while filming his latest movie, _Machines of War_ , on location in the Sahara Desert. Stark, 40, is known for designing cutting edge technology to enable his innovative film techniques. Reports indicate that Stark was adjusting an experimental camera drone at the time of his fall. 

Stark's publicist, James Rhodes released this statement: "Tony's injuries are severe and he is in critical condition. We thank the medical team here in Marrakech for all their hard work in keeping him alive. Ideally the next step will be to medevac him home to Los Angeles when he is stable enough to travel. We also thank the film's stunt coordinator, Carol Danvers, who likely saved Tony's life with her quick thinking under pressure. Local authorities as well as the film's insurance company are conducting a thorough investigation into the safety of the set. The safety of our cast and crew is the number one priority of Stark Productions."

Production of the film has temporarily halted, but is expected to soon continue under the supervision of producer Obadiah Stane.

* * *

"I'm sorry, Mr. Stark, are my post-surgical instructions _boring_ you?"

"Honestly, yeah? I'm hearing a lot about all the shit I _can't_ do but you haven't said anything about when I can get back to work."

The doctor--he had a strange name but Tony couldn't quite recall it--stared at Tony incredulously. "You really haven't been listening at all, have you? Let me make myself clear: you are extremely lucky to be alive. Your injuries were _severe_ and some of the procedures I've performed on you were...experimental. It will take months for you to recuperate, and you may never recover your full range of motion in some of your limbs."

"Okay, sure, but I can still do some stuff, right?" Tony asked. His tongue felt itchy. That was weird. His tongue didn't usually feel like anything, unless he was using it for something. Had something happened to his tongue?

"You're looking at at least another week in the hospital for observation, followed by intensive physical therapy and _rest_. You're going to have to re-learn how to do some pretty basic functions, and that's going to be very tiring."

"Surely they have physical therapists in Morocco. Or we can fly one in. I have to get back on location as soon as possible."

"Mr. Stark, you are going to be in no condition to travel anywhere outside of the hospital or your house for months."

"But we can't delay production for months. The cast, the crew, the permits…" Tony trailed off.

"You'll have to talk to Ms. Potts about that. From the comfort of your hospital bed."

"Believe me, I will." With effort, Tony glanced around the room and saw Pepper sitting on a plastic chair at the other side of his bed.

"Dr. Strange, thank you so much," Pepper said. "I took notes on all of your instructions and I'll make sure they are followed."

"Wait, for real, your name is Dr. Strange? Can I get a second opinion?"

" _Tony!_ " Pepper scolded. "Dr. Strange is the most highly ranked surgeon in the country. We're _very grateful_ he agreed to take your case."

Tony squinted. Dr. Strange rolled his eyes. "Take care, Mr. Stark. I'll follow up with you before you're released."

After the doctor left, Tony focused his attention back on Pepper. "Seriously, I have to get back on location, Pepper."

"Seriously, no you don't, Tony. You almost died. Obie's taking over as director. You're following all the doctor's instructions to the T. Do you know how worried I've been?"

"But--" Tony stopped himself when he realized there were tears in the eyes of his usually unflappable personal assistant. Plus, his...everything hurt. “Okay, okay, we’ll try whatever the strange doctor says.”

Pepper smiled. “Good. Now, how are you feeling? Need more pain meds? Water? Applesauce?” 

“Cheeseburger?” Tony suggested, more for the habit of teasing Pepper than because he actually wanted one. 

She shook her head. “You’re on a pretty restricted diet at the moment. I think I could get you some strawberry applesauce instead of plain. Maybe, if you’re nice.”

“I’ll pass.”

“Okay, we’ll try food later. Do you want the TV on? How about reading material?"

"Do you have any of the trades?"

"Well...I thought you might like something lighter," Pepper said. She put some books and magazines on his tray table.

Tony frowned as he picked through the stack with some difficulty, since his dominant left arm was in a cast and his right arm, though apparently not broken, still ached more than he wanted to admit. "Lighter" meant she didn't want him to see the trades, which meant there was bad news in them. “ _People_ magazine, _Us Weekly_...the first Gamma Garcia book? Pepper, you know I’m not brain damaged, right?”

“Jury's actually still out on that one: you did have a concussion, and are in fact still being monitored for signs of post-concussion syndrome. And Dr. Strange said the meds might cause some brain fog, you know, make it hard for you to focus. But mostly, I just thought these might be more...fun."

Tony picked up the Gamma Garcia book and studied its cover. Tony had never read the series, but the green-haired title character had become something of a pop culture icon over the last decade. "I dunno, Pep, I'm not sure this is for me. He's, like, a boy robot on a hero's journey or something?"

"He's a cyborg, not a robot, and...and they're really good books, Tony, stop being a snob."

"They're for children."

"They're for young adults, but they appeal to all ages! Honestly, I think you're the last person on earth who hasn't already read them."

Tony flipped it open and raised his eyebrows. "It's signed, 'To Natasha, with gratitude'?"

"Yeah, Nat's his agent. Well, one of his agents. He hired her when his lit agent couldn't handle film rights but so far he's rejected all offers.”

"Huh." Tony's brain sluggishly processed this information. Maybe he did have brain fog. "Yeah, I think I heard he's kind of a recluse, right?" 

"You could say that," Pepper said drily. "He's _kind of_ a recluse like you _kind of_ like parties."

"Everyone likes parties," Tony objected. "That's the whole point of parties." He turned past the inscription and started reading the first page. It did seem kind of interesting, but the book was physically hard for Tony to manage with his injured arms. 

"You know what, I'll get your e-reader charged up," Pepper said sympathetically. "That'll be easier to read one-handed."

"And my tablet? And this week's _Variety_ and _Hollywood Reporter_?" Tony asked.

She sighed. "I'll see what I can do."

He smiled. "Thanks, Pepper, you're the best. Now I think I'm just gonna...rest my eyes a second."


	2. This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things

Dear Dr. Banner,

I never do this kind of thing, but I had to let you know how much your books meant to me. I recently had to spend some time in the hospital and a friend gave me the first Gamma Garcia book while I was recovering. At first I didn't think it would be my kind of thing--it's for teens after all, and I usually find science fiction to be so unbelievable--but I just couldn't put it down.

I read the rest of the Gamma Garcia series in 2 days, which was pretty impressive given how drugged up I was at the time. And then I re-read them. I just loved them. They kept me going on bad days (and I had a lot of bad days). I know this sounds cheesy (I blame the painkillers), but I really related to Gamma and everything he was going through. Obviously I'm not really a cyborg, but his journey inspires me as I adjust to life with more metal bits in me than I had before my accident.

Anyway, I just wanted to let you know how important your books were to me, and to thank you for them. I also wanted to extend an invitation--if you're ever in LA, I'd love to take you out to dinner. (I'm including my personal assistant's business card--she can help you make any arrangements. I'm also including my personal cell phone number.)

Thank you again for your books. I hope to hear from you.

Best,

Tony Stark

PS: I hope you don't mind, I took the liberty of getting your home address from a mutual acquaintance. I couldn't find any public contact information for you, but I just _had_ to talk to you.

* * *

Mr. Stark,

Although I am happy to hear you are recovering from the injuries you sustained in the course of creating warmongering propaganda, I very much do mind this violation of my privacy. Please don't contact me again.

B. Banner

* * *

Tony was lying on the couch in his office, watching dailies on his tablet and feeling sorry for himself, when he heard Pepper's heels clicking down the hallway. Pepper was being really strict about Dr. Strange's _suggestion_ that he work less while he recovered. But how could Tony rest when Obie was _ruining_ Stark Productions' latest film, _World War Zero_? Obadiah Stane was an old friend of Tony's father's, and he'd been a producer on all of Tony's previous films. Tony had always found him to be reliably helpful, if not particularly innovative. It surprised him that Obie was now so completely incapable of executing Tony's vision.

"Tony? How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Fine," Tony moaned.

"PT was okay?"

"Yeah," Tony said. He hated physical therapy because it fucking hurt, but he loved it because every bit of progress he made brought him closer to being able to return to work and the rest of his life.

"And you're okay on pain meds?" She picked the weekly pillbox off his desk and examined it, then set it back down with a nod. "Great, so you're in good enough shape for me to yell at you."

"Noo, Pepper, I almost died," Tony whined.

"I know, and that was terrible, but you said you're feeling fine now. And that's no excuse for getting Nat fired."

"What? I did no such thing."

"Really? You didn't go through the contacts on her phone to steal Bruce Banner's address?"

Tony winced. "Oh...okay, yeah, I _might_ have done that. But damn, he fired her? I sent him _such_ a nice letter, Pepper. And I didn't even mention her name!"

"Well, he apparently is only in communication with about five people, so he didn't have to be the world's greatest detective to figure it out."

"That seems like a really extreme reaction to a fan letter."

"I guess he's kind of an extreme guy."

"Look, Pep, I'm sorry--tell Nat I'll fix it."

"Tell her yourself. And drink some water." Pepper tapped her phone and brought Tony a bottle of water.

A moment later, Pepper's terrifying wife, who also happened to be Bruce Banner's terrifying film rights agent, strolled into Tony's office. She perched on Tony's desk and looked down at him. "Hey, Tony. I'm glad you're feeling better."

Trying to make his voice sound pathetic, Tony said, "Natasha, I'm so sorry, I really had no idea he'd react like that! I--I'll do whatever I can to make it up to you, I can try to talk to him again...or I can get you another client...maybe one who's less touchy…"

Natasha shook her head. "I just wish you would have asked, Tony, I could have told you that Bruce will never let anyone make a film adaptation of his books, especially not...well, not anyone. He was my easiest client, actually, because all I ever had to do was tell people 'no.'" 

"I didn't even ask to adapt his books! I mean, obviously I'd love to, but I--it was just a fan letter. From a poor, dying, fan. Practically a Make a Wish kid."

"Tony, you're a grown man who fell down while trying to make an action movie, let's not oversell your sympathy value here," Natasha said. "But you really didn't ask about a film adaptation?"

Tony bit back the urge to remind her that the scaffold had collapsed, he hadn't just _fallen down_. And also that "action movie" was really an oversimplification of what Tony was trying to do with his film. And also that maybe it was partly _her_ fault for leaving her bag on a chair by his bed. 

Instead, he said, "No! I would gone through Matt if it was for business. I--look, you can see the letter, I still have the file saved."

He sent her the file and she skimmed it on her phone with a stone face. "It is a nice letter," she said grudgingly. "I didn't realize you liked the books that much."

"They're amazing!"

Natasha gave him a small smile. "Yeah, they're pretty good."

"And look at the reply he sent," Tony said. He'd thrown it on the floor and he couldn't reach it, but he pointed toward it with his good arm and she picked it up.

She read it quickly, with a faint quirk still on her lips. "That sounds like him."

"Anyway, what can I do? I--I know he said not to contact him again, but I could send an apology letter? Fruit basket? Puppy basket?"

Natasha shook her head. "He's very...particular...I don't think any of that would help. I don't mind about my job so much--I have other clients, obviously, it's just--I kind of worry about him. He really doesn't interact with very many people, but I was one of them, and this is a real betrayal of his trust…" 

"Maybe it will blow over on its own," Pepper suggested. "He'll realize how great you are at your job and that he can't go on without you."

"...sure, maybe," Nat agreed, though her tone indicated she didn't think that was likely.

"But what if--" Tony started.

"Tony, look, I appreciate your apology, but you can't fix this," Nat said. "If I decide to pick up a new client, I'll ask Pepper to use your contacts to help find me one. And I'm billing you a full hour for this meeting."

"That's fair," Tony agreed.

"And you're giving Pepper the night off so she can take me out."

"You're a tough negotiator."

"That's what it says on my business cards.”

"But yeah, of course, have fun," Tony said, hoping he sounded appropriately contrite. He really did not want to be on Natasha's bad side.

"Tony, are you sure?" Pepper asked. Tony was mollified to notice that her tone revealed that she was still more worried about Tony than she was mad at him.

"I'm fine, Pep."

She pursed her lips and said, "Well, Jarvis is around. But don't hesitate to call me if you need anything, really."

"You could hesitate a little bit," Natasha said. "Bye, Tony, take care."

"Bye," Tony said.

Pepper took his tablet away from him as she left. "You're not supposed to be working! You need to rest," she said.

After the two women left, he closed his eyes miserably. He couldn't believe that anything could make him feel worse than recovering from his broken bones and internal injuries, but that was before he'd gotten that brutal letter and even worse follow-up from Nat. And he couldn't even soothe himself with a drink, since Pepper and Jarvis had taken away _all_ the alcohol in the house until he was off the painkillers. 

He still had his phone, so at least he could scroll through social media. Seeing all the well wishes there did make him feel a little better, though he hated to think what these fans would say if they knew what a disaster this latest movie was shaping up to be. And he couldn't stop thinking about what Natasha had said about Banner.

Finally, he closed Twitter on his phone and instead, impulsively, pulled up the contact information for Bruce Banner he'd swiped from Nat's phone. He stared at the screen for a moment before calling the number. He was disappointed, but not surprised, when he immediately got a "voice mailbox full" message.

Next, he called Jarvis and asked him to bring Tony a pen and a postcard.

"A postcard, sir?"

"Yeah, you know, like what tourists used to send before SnapChat."

"Any particular image?"

"No, whatever you can find. Oh, and a stamp."

Tony didn't think Banner would open another envelope from him, but with a postcard, maybe he'd accidentally read the message before tossing it. It seemed worth a shot, especially when Tony was forbidden from doing any actual work.

Jarvis arrived in his office a few moments later with a pen and an old promotional postcard for Tony's first movie, _Red Iron_. Tony hesitated when he saw it. He had specifically told Jarvis that anything was fine, but it hadn't occurred to him that any of those would be around; he'd imagined something with the Hollywood sign or maybe the ocean. Something slightly less egotistical.

"Is something the matter, sir?" Jarvis asked.

_Fuck it_ , Tony thought. It probably didn't matter what he sent to Banner anyway, and anyway, he was still proud of his film debut. It _wasn't_ warmongering propaganda or whatever Banner had called it. It was a complex look at the human cost of war. He'd won a fucking Oscar for it. (Best Director, not Best Picture, but still: pretty good.) "Nah, this is great. Thanks, J."

He picked up the pen and started trying to write his way out of the hole he'd dug himself into.


	3. Can't Get You Out Of My Head

Dr. Banner,

Sorry, I didn't have any other way to get ahold of you. I just wanted to apologize again for the intrusion but also to let you know that Nat didn't give me your address. I stole it from her phone. She didn't know. She's great and she's worried about you. You should keep her.

\- Tony Stark

PS Sorry about my handwriting, all of my bones are broken.

* * *

Tony didn't mention his postcard to Pepper or Natasha, since he knew he wasn't _supposed_ to have sent it at all. Still, he held out a small hope that it would work, and Banner would forgive Natasha. (And maybe Banner would forgive Tony, too, since he still thought that Banner was severely overreacting to a fan letter. Most people would have been flattered to receive a letter like that from Tony Stark!) 

As days went on without getting medical clearance to do any kind of significant work, Tony started to really obsess about Bruce Banner. He couldn't imagine what would make someone just completely drop out of society the way this guy had, especially not someone who was such a brilliant writer.

Even with a broken arm slowing his typing, it didn't take Tony long to find what he was looking for when he searched for "Bruce Banner." The man kept no web presence--no social media, no website other than the most bare bones listing on his publisher's website. There were some fan-made pages and forums, and then there was the video of Dr. Banner's last public appearance: "Gamma Garcia Author Flips Out at San Diego Comic-Con." 

Tony vaguely remembered seeing the clip. For a little while it was popular on the late night shows, but it had died down pretty quickly. Dr. Banner had at least had the good fortune to have his public meltdown before meme culture had taken off. 

Back then, Tony hadn't read the books and didn't especially care about their author. He'd had a small laugh at the scene and then moved on with his life, filing the memory away with other cringey cultural touchstones like President Bush puking on the Prime Minister of Japan and Naomi Campbell throwing that phone at her assistant. 

Now, though, he was invested. The clip started by showing Dr. Banner sitting at a panel with two other authors and a moderator. Tony was familiar with the comic con circuit and the only thing that initially struck him as being out of the ordinary was how obvious it was that Dr. Banner did not want to be there. Being at a panel like that should have been an exciting honor--maybe a little nerve wracking, but exciting. Banner was visibly pale and nervous as he slumped in his chair, staring down at the table. The clip moved focus to the moderator taking a question from a middle-aged white guy. As soon as the man started to speak, Dr. Banner looked up from the table and reacted as if he'd seen his worst enemy. With surprising strength for the bookish-looking man, Banner flipped over the whole table and stormed off the stage. The clip ended shortly after, as the audience's stunned silence made way to uncomfortable laughter.

Tony watched the clip again. He felt sick to his stomach, and for once it wasn't nausea induced by his pain meds. He returned to his search results and found footage of the entire hour-long panel. It was low resolution, filmed by a fan on a camera that had probably been high quality at the time, but the video was good enough for Tony's investigative purposes. At the outset of the panel, Banner didn't look quite as anxious as he had by the end of it. He looked kind of cute, really, with his purple Oxford shirt, floppy hair, and shy smile. 

The moderator went down the table and introduced the authors. Each of his first two introductions--"Neil Gaiman, known for his Sandman series" and "Diana Wynne Jones, known for _Howl's Moving Castle_ " were met with moderate applause. But the moderator made it as far as, "And Dr. Bruce B--" when the audience rose to their feet with thunderous applause before they could be reminded that the fifth and final Gamma Garcia book would be released in a week's time. The crowd was clearly there for him. 

Tony had received his share of attention from excited comic con crowds. He'd always loved it. What could be better than a room full of people who loved you and your work? But Banner paled and stared out like a deer in headlights. After a long pause, he finally acknowledged the crowd with a shaky wave and they quieted down. As a director, Tony had worked with his share of anxious actors. He found himself wishing that he could have been there to pull Banner aside and give him a quick pep talk. Tony gave great pep talks.

The moderator asked the panel a few softball questions like, "Where do you get your ideas from?" and "What are you working on?" The other two authors easily gave friendly, funny answers. Banner painstakingly produced a few hesitant mumbles. He had to be reminded to lean forward so the microphone could pick him up. It was hard to see how this human ball of nerves had created the bold, funny character of Gamma Garcia. 

But then the moderator asked the writers if they had any advice for young people in the audience who might want to be writers. Banner leaned into the microphone and said, clearly, "I would just say, don't give up. No matter what, don't give up. You're stronger than you think you are." It wasn't exactly groundbreaking, but at least Banner seemed confident in saying it. The crowd loved it, and honestly, Tony did too. There was something so pure about Banner; he was awkward, but sincere.

When the moderator opened the floor to audience questions, the first batch were all for Banner. Every question was prefaced with long soliloquies about how much the Gamma Garcia books meant to the askers, and most of the questions turned out to be attempts to weasel information about the upcoming final book. Banner deflected those as best he could, although he did scrape up some genuine warmth for a shy young boy in a homemade costume. Finally the moderator said, "OK, let's give Bruce a break. Does anyone have questions for our other panelists?" 

Banner mouthed a quick "thank you" at the moderator and slumped forward in his seat.

A Goth girl asked Neil Gaiman if he'd ever make a _Sandman_ movie, and a thirty-something man asked Diana Wynne Jones if she'd ever write another Chrestomanci book. (Both authors gave charming, funny responses that essentially amounted to "Who knows?", but in such a subtle way that the askers clearly felt satisfied.)

Then, the man approached the microphone. Tony winced, knowing what was to come. Then he froze the video. The man looked familiar, but the video was too grainy for him to be sure. He stared for a moment, then gave up and unpaused the video. On the screen, the man said, "Hi, my question is for Neil--" and then Banner flipped the table and the panel fell into disarray.

It just didn't add up. The man hadn't even been talking to Banner. Sure, some divas might have gotten angry about another panelist getting attention instead of them, but that _clearly_ wasn't Banner's issue. And that guy hadn't even gotten to ask his question, so the question itself couldn't have been the problem. 

And why had Banner completely disappeared after that event? Sure, it was probably embarrassing, but celebrities came back from public embarrassment all the time. Tony had done it on multiple occasions (thanks to Rhodey--but with those sales numbers, Banner could certainly afford his own excellent publicist). Banner hadn't actually hurt anyone, and the final Gamma Garcia book had still set records for book sales. A week after the table flip, bookstores around the country--around the world, probably--had midnight release parties packed with kids who had sprayed their hair Gamma green and hand-painted barcode tattoos on their necks like the one Gamma had.

It should have been a dream come true for any author, but that had been ten years ago and he hadn't released any books since. Instead, new hot series followed in Gamma Garcia's wake, and the authors of the Twilight, Hunger Games, and Percy Jackson series, to name a few, hadn't shared Banner's rejection of Hollywood. But the Gamma Garcia books were still widely-read, and Tony was sure that Banner would have no problem selling whatever kind of follow-up he wanted to write. 

Tony started the video over again, trying to make sense of it. 

Pepper, bearing a bowl of gross, healthy soup, asked, "Hey, what are you watching? You're not still working, are you? You already talked to Obie today. You should rest."

"No...just watching some old footage from San Diego Comic-Con." He scrubbed the video forward to the man who had apparently set off Banner. "Hey, do you recognize that guy? He seems familiar…"

Pepper, who was basically a human Rolodex, made a disgusted face. "Thaddeus Ross?"

"Yes! That guy." Tony snapped his fingers in recognition.

"Ugh, he's so smarmy. What is this exactly? Oh no, I remember that table flip…but what's Ross doing there? I never knew he was the one...why would he even be attending a fan event like that?" Pepper asked. 

"Huh. Yeah, that is weird." Tony ate more soup as he struggled to remember the last time he'd seen Ross. He was a director whose films had moderate commercial success, despite being panned by critics. Tony had never worked with Ross directly, but their paths did occasionally cross at parties and events. He'd always gotten kind of a weird vibe from the guy, but had never felt the urge to throw a table at him.

"Tony? What are you up to? You've got your scheming face on."

"Just...thinking."

She peered at him intensely. "You haven't been drinking, have you? You know you can't yet, not with your pills."

"No! Where would I even get a drink, Pepper? I can still barely use the bathroom by myself." He couldn't blame her for asking; she'd been working for him since he finished film school and she'd seen way more than her share of playboy shenanigans over the years. But he really was trying to follow his doctor's instructions, even though they were deeply annoying. Even though he'd never wanted a drink more badly in his life.

Pepper shrugged, probably remembering countless headaches Tony had given her in the past. But she'd taken away various flasks and hidden stashes, too, when she and Jarvis had prepared the house for his recovery. (Not that Tony had been _looking_ for them or anything; he'd just _noticed_ their absence.) "I don't know. You're pretty crafty."

"That's fair." Tony hesitated before asking, "You never heard anything about Ross working on Gamma Garcia movies, did you?"

"No, of course not. Wow, you are really hung up on those books, huh?"

"I guess I am," Tony admitted. He'd revisited the series several times already during his convalescence. He was still suffering from brain fog, but Banner's books were written in a straightforward style that was easy to follow, especially upon re-reading. Yet he found new depth to the characters each time he read. 

"Well, no, I don't know where you got that idea, but I never heard anything about Ross and the Gamma Garcia series. Nat said Spielberg made a pitch for it and got shot down, so how on earth would a hack like _Ross_ even get a foot in the door?"

"Hmm."

"Anyway, last I heard, he retired from directing and took a job with the DOD's entertainment liaison office."

"Ugh, what a sell-out. That does actually make me feel better, though. Thanks, Pepper. You're my Lemonbot," Tony said, referring to Gamma Garcia's bright yellow droid: cheerful, loyal, and in possession of all the galaxy's knowledge.

Pepper made an affronted noise. "I am not Lemonbot! If anything, I'm Captain Wu."

Tony thought for a moment about Captain Wu, the kind but sad resistance leader who was a mentor to Gamma. "Okay, yeah, I can see that. But I meant it as a compliment, I love Lemonbot."

"You would."

"Well, either way, thanks, Pepper."

"You're welcome. Now, stop obsessing and get some sleep." Pepper took Tony's tablet and watched him transfer into his wheelchair. She pushed him to his bedroom, where she made sure he had his phone, water, and painkillers easily accessible, but she kept his tablet. When he reached for it, she said, "What part of 'stop obsessing and get some sleep' didn't you understand?"

"I'm not tired," Tony said, although he reluctantly transferred out of the wheelchair into bed and began the painstaking process of arranging his pillows.

Pepper sighed and cast her eyes around the room. She picked up his e-reader from his nightstand and asked, "How about if I read to you?"

"Pepper, I'm not a baby, you don't--"

She sat on the other edge of his bed and tapped the device. He’d been in the middle of re-reading _Gamma Garcia and the Mild Moon_ , the fourth book in the series. In her soft voice, she started to read, "The resistance badly needed supplies, and Gamma knew where they could find a cache of medicine and freeze dried rations. He'd once said that he'd rather die than return to his father's dome, but he hadn't factored his comrades into that proclamation. He couldn't let _them_ die. But what if his father's programming took over? His friends might die and it would be Gamma's fault either way. 'Thank the stars you're solar powered, Lemonbot,' he muttered. 'Thank you, stars," Lemonbot said."

Tony drifted off to sleep before Pepper got to the part where Captain Wu found access to an old, fully-stocked fallout shelter, thus delaying Gamma's much-anticipated confrontation with his father until the next book.


	4. My Heart Is Broken (Like The Bottles on the Floor)

World War Zero Release Delayed

Writer-director Tony Stark's latest film, _World War Zero_ , originally slated for a December release, has been postponed indefinitely. 

The production, now directed by Obadiah Stane, has been plagued with setbacks since Stark's on-set injury six months ago. Stark continues to recuperate at his Malibu estate and is no longer directly involved with the project.

Stark's publicist, James Rhodes, released this statement: "Stark Productions stands by the hard work of _World War Zero_ 's cast and crew. We are aware of the high standards our fans have for our films, and we want to take the time and care to ensure this film is of the highest possible quality."

* * *

"This is a fucking disaster." Tony tipped his head over the back of his chair to avoid seeing the screen. It didn't matter, though; the rough cut he'd just watched of _World War Zero_ would be burned in his mind forever.

Next to him, Rhodey said, "No, Tony, the disaster was when you almost died in the middle of the desert. This is just a movie."

"A terrible movie."

Rhodey paused, choosing his words. Tony hated that pause. "Don't try to spin this, Rhodey, just say it."

"Well, obviously Stane's not the director you are, everybody knows that," Rhodey said matter-of-factly. Tony should have enjoyed the compliment but he was still too angry.

"It's more than that. He's filmed scenes I never wrote. He changed the ending! It's--it's an entirely different story now! How did this happen?" Tony leaned his head forward with a wince. His dramatic posture had sent waves of pain throughout his torso. 

"You okay? You need some pain meds?" Rhodey asked, his voice warm and concerned.

"Nah, I took some a little while ago. My pain is _artistic_ ," Tony said, hoping he sounded convincing. He didn't want Rhodey to make a fuss. He was supposed to be tapering off the pills, and he'd already taken his allotment for the day. 

"Man, let it go. Your name's not attached as director anymore, right? Let this one go out as Stane's flop. You'll come up with something killer once you're back on your feet."

"I'm back on my feet! I did 45 minutes on the treadmill today," Tony protested, knowing it was pathetic, even without mentioning the snail-like pace he’d maintained for those painful minutes. 

"Mm-hmm, yeah, the film industry is definitely known for its 45-minute workdays. You're for sure ready to get back out there, tiger." Rhodey affectionately patted Tony's back.

"I can do a lot of work sitting down," Tony muttered, although that wasn't really true, either. The combination of pain and painkillers had left him feeling exhausted and out of it most of the time. He'd argued with Pepper and Dr. Strange about his schedule out of habit, but the few hours a day he spent watching dailies and writing out notes during production and post-production had always severely drained him of energy. His insomnia wasn't helping matters. He couldn't work, he couldn't sleep, he couldn't drink, and he'd completely given up on ever hearing back from Bruce Banner.

Mired in self-pity, Tony continued, "Seriously, though, I sent him so many notes. He must not have read any of them, or listened to me at _all_ when we video conferenced. He didn't even use any of the drone footage from the Sahara, after I almost died getting it launched."

Tony had always put a lot of himself into his movies, but he'd literally poured blood, sweat, and tears into _World War Zero_. And Stane had apparently taken all of that and dumped it down the drain.

"Oof, that sucks."

"I know it sucks! You're my publicist! Fix it."

"As your publicist, I am fixing it, Tony. We're burying it in February, giving it the most minimal marketing. People will forget about it by March. As your best friend, I really want you to just trust me and focus on your recovery."

Tony sighed. _His_ version of the movie had been slated for a December release; Oscar season. Stane's film was much more likely to get a Razzie nomination. The February release was a good start, but it wasn't enough.

"Rhodey. Those credits said 'written by Tony Stark and Obadiah Stane.' The movie _I_ wrote ended with Captain Zimmer realizing that he's been a pawn in an unjust war and deciding to desert the army and work as a weaver in a remote village. The movie we just watched ended with Captain Zimmer getting a fucking Congressional Medal of Honor. I want my name off of it."

Rhodey nodded. "Okay, yeah, if that's what you want...we'll have to go through the WGA but it's a hell of a lot easier to get your work _un_ -credited than to get credited." He pulled out his phone and made a note. "I'll talk to Matt and get the ball rolling on that, if you're sure that's what you want."

"I'm sure," Tony said immediately.

"Okay, consider it done. Now--how are you feeling? Do you want to go to bed? Or do you want to watch this screener of Justin Hammer's latest shitty awards bait movie?"

Tony usually loved making fun of awful movies with Rhodey, but he said, "Honestly, I think I might just turn in. Feels like there's a definite chance that Hammer's movie might be better than mine and I just don't think I can deal with that." Besides, he was exhausted. He'd been having the worst time sleeping.

"Hey, you said it yourself--it's not _your_ movie."

"Right," Tony said. It did make him feel marginally better to know his name (though unfortunately not the name of his production company) would be removed from whatever piece of trash Obie had inexplicably turned his movie into. He clutched his cane and carefully stood up. 

Rhodey walked him to his bedroom door and said, "Night, Tony. I'll talk to you tomorrow after everything is squared away with the WGA."

"Thanks, Rhodey. You're the best."

"Don't you forget it."

Tony slowly made his way to his bed. He paused when he noticed a big gift basket on his nightstand. When had that gotten there? When he'd first gotten home from the hospital he'd been overwhelmed with flowers, fruit, and other miscellany from well-wishers. But those had really tapered off, and anyway, they were usually delivered to his office, not his bedroom. He found the card: _Sorry, Tony. -OS_

Was Obie apologizing for his terrible movie or just for Tony's general state of being? Either way was going to require more than whatever was in this basket. Tony turned off the bedside lamp and decided to deal with the basket's contents in the morning.

Tony awoke in agony and checked the time. It was 2:12am, only a few hours after he'd gone to bed. He was still tired, but his bones were on fire, his skin was itchy, and his breath was coming in short gasps. He was sweaty and shaking and completely miserable. He'd been warned about the potential side effects of coming off the Oxycodone, but it didn't seem fair that he was having _all_ of them. He tried his breathing exercises. He tried turning on one of his guided meditation podcasts. 

Finally, he mumbled, "Fuck it," and turned on the light. He found his weekly pillbox and figured that since it was already technically Tuesday, he could take his Tuesday pills. (He'd done that last night, too, and the night before, but eventually it would all work out, right?)

Obie's stupid gift basket caught his eye, and he realized there was a bottle of champagne tucked in among the fruit and nuts. He knew he wasn't _supposed_ to mix alcohol with the painkillers, but, well, it was right there, and nothing else seemed to help. He was so sick of feeling like this. He'd regained enough use of his hands to open a bottle of champagne (something he was well-practiced at) and chased the pills with a healthy swig. Maybe an unhealthy swig. Maybe the whole bottle.


	5. You Are The One I Have Been Waiting For

Dear Dr. Banner,

You've presented me with a real conundrum. As part of my recovery process at this extremely fancy rehab center, I'm supposed to write letters to people who I've wronged and attempt to make amends. I know I've wronged you, by violating your privacy, and I am so sorry for that. But I have no way to communicate this to you without further violating your privacy, which--yeah, I got the memo, I shouldn't do that. So the best way to make amends is probably just to leave you alone. So I guess I'm just writing this as a therapy exercise or something. So it's kind of pointless. But I don't have much else to do, since I can't have my phone and I'm only allowed half an hour of internet a day, so here we are.

At least I finally convinced everyone I didn't need to be on suicide watch. I mean, yes, sure, technically I overdosed on Oxys and champagne, but it was a complete accident. Anyone would have done the same, if they woke up in the middle of the night and discovered a bottle of champagne on their bedside table. I'm sorry, this letter is getting off track, I just needed to get that off my chest.

The other thing I do in here, besides go to therapy sessions and write pointless letters, is read. I've re-read your books so many times, I think I have them memorized. For example, the part in _Gamma Garcia and the Empire's End_ , when Gamma tells his father, "You think you know what I'll do because you think that I am like you, that I am part of you. You think my purpose is to follow your programming. But I've cracked the code. I will write my own destiny and render a world beyond your limited comprehension."

I wrote that out from memory. And I really feel that. I know I tried to tell you before, how much your books meant to me, but...well, they really do. You've probably heard of my father, Howard. He played dozens of iconic roles but never managed to convincingly act like he gave a shit about his son, not even when I was still cute and pliant enough to work as a child actor. God, I'm such a Hollywood cliche--poor little rich boy writing about his daddy issues from rehab. How embarrassing. If this were a script, I'd send it back for rewrites. Since I can't do that, let's just move on. 

I mentioned that I don't have much to do in here. In the absence of distractions, I find that I can't stop thinking about what happened at your appearance at San Diego Comic-Con. I'm sorry, it's probably an embarrassing memory for you, but you'll never read this anyway. Plus, I already led with all my confessional bullshit, so I figure we're square. The thing is, I know a little bit about the man who seemed to provoke your ire. I don't know what he did to you specifically, but I'm sure that you didn't deserve it. It seems unfair that he's still out here making mediocre movies but you haven't put out any new books. I hope that you will one day. (This is mostly selfish, because I'd love to read anything else you have to say.)

Anyway, I hope you're doing well. I've been better, but...I've been worse. I need to wrap this up because it's time for my physical therapy. My mind and my body are both broken, which really keeps things interesting.

I'm sorry again for bothering you. 

Actually, you know what? Throughout all of this excruciating ordeal, everyone here keeps telling me that "addiction lies" and I have to be completely honest to confront it. So in the interest of complete honesty: I'm not actually sorry I sent you that letter. I'm sorry it apparently upset you so badly, I'm sorry it caused problems for Natasha, but mostly what I'm sorry about is that you don't want to talk to me. I just have a feeling that we could be friends, and I'm sorry I won't have the chance to get to know you.

I'm sorry this letter is a terrible apology. I'm just sorry.

Yours in apology & abject self pity,

Tony Stark

* * *

Tony heard a knock at his open door frame (patients weren’t allowed to close their bedroom doors during the day) and was surprised to see his counselor, Sam, standing there. Tony’s schedule at Fresh Start Rehabilitation Center was strictly regimented. This hour of time, from 1-2pm, was his only free time today, and he’d already met with Sam at 9am.

"Hey, Tony, how are you?"

Tony had been at Fresh Start for almost 30 days and was hoping to be released at soon, so, in a show of good mental health, he reminded himself of the hassle he'd get from Sam if he tried to give a smooth one-word answer like "fine." He put down his book and said, "I’m doing pretty well. My pain’s at like a 3. Boredom’s at a 5."

Sam smiled. "Not bad. And what are you going to do if any of that starts feeling unmanageable?"

"Ask for help," Tony said dutifully. 

"Good. Now, there’s a bit of an unusual situation...you have a visitor, but they’re not on your approved list. But they were kind of insistent that you’d want to see them, so...we said we’d check. And you have been making some real progress lately, so we're willing to let you have this extra visitor, if you'd like to see them. But if you don’t want to, Tony, just say the word and we’ll send them on their way, don’t worry."

"Well, who is it?" Tony couldn’t think of a single person he wanted to see who wasn’t on his list. Sometimes he barely wanted to see the people who were on the list--he hated for them to see him like this.

"His name is Bruce Banner."

Tony took in a sharp breath, the kind that still made his ribs twinge a little. "Really?"

"He showed his ID to security." 

Tony hadn't meant to doubt the security of Fresh Start, a very expensive facility that took intense measures to guard to privacy of its wealthy clientele. "Uh...yeah, of course, I’d...I’ll see him."

"You’re sure?"

"Yeah." Tony stood up and looked at himself in the room’s small mirror. He'd looked worse, but he'd also looked better. He'd started sleeping better, so the dark circles under his eyes were mostly gone. But his face was still pale and his goatee was a mess. Last year, he'd made _People_ ’s Best Dressed list, and now he was forced to wear athleisure and terrible canvas shoes. But there was nothing to be done now. He shrugged at his reflection. "Is he at reception?"

"We haven't let him in the gates yet, but I'll let security know. We can walk up together." Sam picked up Tony's cane off the floor and handed it to him pointedly.

Tony wanted to protest--his pain wasn't that bad today, he didn't really need it, he didn't want Bruce to see him with a cane--but he knew Sam would not respond well to any of those sentiments, so he took it with a silent nod of thanks. Tony was slowly learning about pain management; learning that if he took care not to over-exert himself, he wouldn't end up in so much pain in the first place. It all seemed obvious, but Tony's stubbornness sometimes made it hard for him to grasp these basic lessons.

Sam set a slow pace down the long hallway, and Tony walked by his side. His tone mild, Sam said, "Do you need any forms for adding visitors to your approved list?"

Tony knew that Sam was politely scolding him. Tony liked Sam; he was kind and funny, but no-nonsense. He tried to clarify, "No, I--I mean, I didn't invite him. I'm…I guess it's a surprise." 

"How do you know him?"

Tony hesitated, wondering if he should confess that they'd never actually met. It was possible Sam wouldn't agree to let him meet a stranger. But he didn't know what Bruce had already told them, and he would be embarrassed to be caught in a lie. Like all visitors, Bruce would have to be searched to make sure he wasn't bringing in contraband--a thought that made Tony uncomfortable--so at least everyone would be clear that he wasn't some kind of drug dealer. Finally, he said, "I'm a fan of his work."

"Oh, right, the Gamma Garcia books," Sam said. "Bruce Banner...huh, I knew that name sounded familiar." 

"Yeah."

"Well, I hope you two have a productive visit. But just remember, if you start to feel uncomfortable, or like your recovery is being threatened, you can end a visit at any time and security will escort him out, okay?"

"Yeah, sure." 

"Okay. And you still have to go to group at 3." 

"Right, I know."

"Okay, take care, Tony. I'll check in with you later."

"Thanks, Sam." Sam nodded and left Tony in the reception area. Banner hadn't made it in yet--Tony knew it was a real trek from the outer security gates to the facility's main building. He'd known from his illicit mailings that Bruce lived in Ojai, which wasn't too far from Malibu, relatively speaking. But it wasn't too close, either, and he couldn't imagine why a man who'd reacted so strongly to a letter would suddenly decide to follow it up with an in-person visit. He thought again of Sam's mention of security--surely Banner wasn't going to come visit Tony in rehab just to throw a table at him, was he? He was starting to work himself into a mild panic when he heard a soft throat-clearing sound. Tony looked up and saw Banner, accompanied by a security guard, standing in front of him. 

"Hi," Banner said sheepishly. He looked basically like Tony remembered from his author photo and Comic-Con video: like an adorably rumpled absent-minded professor. He twisted his hands together and said, "Sorry for the trouble...she told me there was a designated visiting time but I didn't realize I was supposed to get added to the guest list."

The guard looked to Tony. Tony nodded and the guard drifted away. Tony gripped his cane with his left hand and stood up, offering his right hand. "It's no trouble. Dr. Banner, it's...it's an unexpected honor to meet you."

Banner gave a half-smile and said, "Oh, please, call me Bruce. Only my students call me Dr. Banner...and even then, only when they want something from me."

"Okay...Bruce. And I'm Tony."

Bruce nodded. "Yeah. It's kind of hard to find someone who doesn't know who you are."

"I guess," Tony agreed. He licked his lips. 

Bruce looked down at Tony's cane and asked, "Do you need to sit down? How are you feeling? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your routine…"

"No, please, I'm thrilled to have my routine broken. Uh...do you want to go sit outside?"

"Sure, lead the way." 

Tony was glad for the cane, since walking on the uneven terrain was harder for him than the smooth hardwood floors. Bruce followed his slow pace without comment, and Tony led them to a cement chess table in the garden. 

"You play chess?" Bruce asked.

"Uh, yeah, sometimes, but mostly this is just a nice spot to sit." It was also the outdoor seating closest to the front door.

"It is nice," Bruce said, casting his eyes around the garden. He ran his hand over the table's smooth stone surface. "So you didn't pick this table just because you thought it would be hard for me to flip?"

Tony let out a surprised laugh. "Well, you know, I have to look out for myself. I can't risk any more broken bones."

Bruce gave him a quick, relieved smile before his expression changed to concern. "How are you doing, physically? Your accident sounded awful."

"It was," Tony said. "But I'm doing better. All my bones are healed. Now it's just a matter of getting my strength back and adjusting to some of my implants. I wasn't kidding about being a cyborg."

With a crooked smile, Bruce replied, "I'm sure you're very well-programmed. It, uh, looked like your handwriting improved."

"I think I'm actually in this place because some of my wires are loose."

"Oh, well, that happens to even the best cyborgs from time to time."

Tony smiled back and said, "So...uh...it is great to meet you, really, but I have to ask...what brings you out here? I kind of thought you didn't want to hear from me."

"Yeah, I'm sorry, I think I...I overreacted. But I got your last letter, and I was in the area, and I just...I, uh...I know what it's like, what you're feeling." He vaguely gestured out at the garden.

Tony blinked. "My letter? The--" He felt his pulse beating loudly in his ears. He must have misunderstood. Bruce must have re-evaluated the first letter Tony had sent him. But what had Bruce said about his handwriting? _Fuck._

"Yeah, I--I was surprised, since it sounded like you didn't plan to send it, but, uh, um, I'm glad you changed your mind."

"My...my therapy letter? The terrible apology letter? You--you saw it?" Tony tried to remember what all he'd written in it. He'd written it very early on in his stay at Fresh Start, when he was feeling very low. He clearly remembered deciding that Bruce could never see it. Why hadn't he just thrown it away?

"Well...yeah, Natasha gave it to me." Bruce's eyes widened. "Was she not supposed to have?"

Tony thought back to the apology letters. Sam had asked Tony to write them at one of their first sessions, but Sam had said that he'd never read them and it was up to Tony to decide what to do with them. He had written letters to Pepper and Natasha, and he'd given those to Pepper on one of her visits. In a horrible flash of insight, he realized that maybe he'd accidentally included Bruce's letter with that stack of paper? His letter to Pepper had been pretty long, he probably wouldn't have noticed an extra sheet of paper in there when he ripped the pages out of his journal. And Tony never went back and re-read his old journal entries, so he wouldn't have noticed Bruce's letter missing. Somehow, this was the final straw. He buried his face in his hands and started to cry. 

"Oh...Tony, I'm sorry, I--" Bruce trailed off as Tony collapsed into full-fledged sobs. "Hey, it's okay. It's okay to cry if that's what you feel like. But--please, Tony, I came here because--because I understand how you feel."

Tony was sobbing too hard to reply, and he was still covering his face with his hands. He heard Bruce push his chair back and walk away. He couldn't blame Bruce for leaving this mess behind, but he felt another wave of remorse at how he'd managed to fuck this second chance up too. He'd endured so many humiliations since his accident, but this one felt different from embarrassing himself in front of loved ones, who he knew would forgive him; or strangers, who would move on and never see Tony again. This felt like he was being robbed of a future possibility.

A few moments later, he was surprised to feel a light touch on his hand. Tony opened his eyes to see that Bruce had returned and placed a box of tissues in the middle of the chess board. The small kindness made Tony cry even harder. Bruce stood behind him, one hand lightly pressed on his shoulders. The soft touch was soothing, and Tony appreciated that Bruce stood behind him, rather than watching his face from across the table. Tony went through several tissues before he managed to compose himself enough to thank Bruce.

"Of course. Is there anything else I can do to help?" Bruce sat back down across from Tony. His face showed no judgment, only concern.

Tony sniffed and summoned a reference to a key plot point in the third Gamma book. "Do you happen to have a time machine so I can go back and prevent myself from being a hot mess the first time I met my favorite author?"

Bruce smiled. "If I had a time machine, don't you think I would have used it to prevent myself from having a very public, iconic freakout at a comics convention?"

"That's a fair point."

"Tony, I'm so sorry to have upset you. But please don't feel embarrassed on my behalf. You said it yourself in your letter, you--and a lot of other people--have already seen my most embarrassing moment, and it was way worse than a few tears."

Tony sighed. "I--I have to admit, I don't remember everything I wrote in that letter. I was kind of messed up when I wrote it. I--I hope I didn't--I'm sorry if I said anything...inappropriate?"

"Nah. Well, maybe a little bit. But I appreciated the honesty."

Something clicked for Tony. "Wait, you said Nat gave you the letter? Are--you're not mad at her?"

"I realized I...I may have overreacted. Slightly," Bruce said with a half-smile.

"Oh. That's good. Nat's great."

"Yeah."

For a moment, the awkward silence hung in the air, and then they both started to speak at once.

"Sorry, you go," Tony said. He picked up a pawn off the table and fidgeted with it.

"I, uh, I wanted to apologize, also, for what I wrote to you, before," Bruce said softly. "I watched your movie...it wasn't...it wasn't what I thought it would be. It was really good."

Tony perked up, always happy to receive a compliment. "Really? Uh, which one?"

" _Red Iron_? You sent me a postcard of it."

"Oh...yeah, I, uh, I had some of those cards left over and I...I thought if I sent something in an envelope you might throw it away without opening it. For the record, it _did_ occur to me that it was kind of egocentric to send it but...waste not, want not?" He laughed as he said it; "waste not, want not" was sort of a catchphrase from the Gamma Garcia books. The lunar resistance was very dedicated to upcycling.

Bruce smiled. "I'm glad you did. I'm sorry I didn't respond sooner--I'd been traveling."

"Where did you go? Anywhere fun?"

"I visited some friends in Norway. It's beautiful there, you know, the fjords…very peaceful."

"I've never been."

"Well. I'd recommend it."

"I'll keep it in mind for the future. Right now I'm not allowed to go past the front gate, so."

Bruce nodded slowly. "Do you know how much longer you'll be here?"

"I've been here for 27 days. I'm hoping I'll be released after 30, but I haven't heard."

"You feel ready to leave?" Bruce asked, his tone neutral.

"I think so, yeah. I mean--I mean technically I could just leave right now, I'm not court-ordered to be here or anything, but my--but I think everyone would feel better if I got, you know, officially rehabilitated."

"Do you have therapy dogs in here?"

"What?"

"Therapy dogs," Bruce repeated. 

"Like...dogs that conduct therapy sessions? No, we have humans for that."

Bruce laughed. "No, they're just dogs that you can pet. For therapeutic reasons. I guess you don't, then."

"I guess not."

"That's too bad. They were my favorite part."

Tony blinked. He thought back to what Bruce had said earlier, about understanding what Tony was going through. "Favorite part of…? Have you been to rehab?"

"Oh. Yeah. Well, kind of. Not like this one." Bruce crossed his arms and looked down at the table.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to be rude, just--"

"--It's okay, I brought it up. I just remembered how...well, I thought you might appreciate a visitor."

Tony took a moment to consider his response. He obviously wanted to know more, but didn't want to seem too nosy. He wondered how long Bruce had been in rehab--did that explain his disappearance from the public eye? It could have explained his Comic-Con outburst--though as far as Tony could tell, the rest of his behavior at that panel hadn't seemed like he was under the influence of anything other than social awkwardness. 

Even though Tony hadn't scared him off with his earlier meltdown, this connection with Bruce still seemed tenuous. Bruce had the nervous air of a wild animal who might bolt into the woods at any moment. Tony often put his foot in his mouth, but he was usually capable of repairing the damage with his charm and resources. He wasn't sure his usual techniques would work with Bruce, though.

He realized he'd let the silence drag on for too long, and he said, "Uh, yes, I definitely do. Appreciate it."

"Um," Bruce said, when one of the security guards approached them.

"Gentlemen, I'm sorry to interrupt, but this is a five-minute warning for this visit. Mr. Stark has to move on to his next commitment."

"Thank you," Tony said. To Bruce, he said, "He's making it sound fancy, but my next commitment is group therapy. I'd skip it if I could, but…" he gestured at the guard.

"No, you should go," Bruce said. "It's important."

"Yeah," Tony agreed reluctantly. "Well, I'll walk with you back to reception. If you can keep up with me." He shoved all of his used tissues into the pockets of his track pants and tucked the box of tissues under his arm. Given his mental state, he'd probably need them again at group.

Tony and Bruce lingered in the lobby for a moment. Finally, Tony said, "I--thank you again, for--everything," meaning the books, the visit, the kindness.

Bruce reached over and gave Tony's hand a quick squeeze, then tucked his hands into his pockets. Although Tony was the one who'd embarrassed himself today, Bruce seemed shy as he said, "Thank you, for your letters. You--you could write to me again, if you want. I promise not to overreact."

Tony smiled. "I'd like that. I promise not to write anything inappropriate. Well, I promise to _try_ not to write anything inappropriate."

Bruce smiled back. "Good enough."

The guard cleared his throat, and Tony said, "I guess that's my cue. Goodbye, Bruce. Thanks again."

"Goodbye, Tony. Take care of yourself."

"You, too."

Tony ended up being late to group therapy, but it was worth it.


	6. Just Because You're Clean, Don't Mean You Don't Miss It

Dear Tony,

I'm sorry to hear your stay at Fresh Start has been extended, but I'm happy to know you're getting the support you need. I hope that doesn't sound like an empty platitude--when I was a grad student, I spent a month in a psychiatric hospital after a suicide attempt. I think I could have benefitted from a longer stay, but the insurance ran out, and I was no longer considered a danger to myself. 

But I suppose they were right, since I am still alive, for better or for worse.

I watched your movie _Red Iron_ again. I think I appreciated it even more the second time. It is one of the most accurate portrayals of PTSD I've ever encountered, in any medium. 

Given the nature of your profession, I hope you will not take it personally when I admit I have not seen very many movies at all. As a child, I wasn't allowed to watch any movies or television, and I suppose I never developed a taste for it as an adult. Movie theaters are too crowded, and there are so many books to read…

I think I would like to watch more of your films, though. Which would you recommend I watch next?

Best,

Bruce

PS--I hope it goes without saying that I prefer to keep this information about myself confidential. I know that you understand the value of privacy.

* * *

Dear Bruce,

Thank you for trusting me--with your story, and with your movie recommendations. Both are safe with me.

What you said about PTSD and _Red Iron_ is interesting to me. That was the first movie I made. My parents died while I was writing the script. I had always believed it to be tinged with grief from that experience, but as I unpack things in therapy, I understand more and more about the variety of ways my father fucked me up. (Though, as I'm frequently reminded, only I can take responsibility for my actions as an adult.)

I guess that's part of why I'm stuck here for longer. I guess I have some "unresolved trauma" from my childhood that might "negatively impact" my "recovery" unless I "resolve" it. (My counselor would be mad at me for using those quotation marks to "distance myself" from my issues, but he's not here right now.) Also it turns out that perhaps I have been using alcohol as a "coping mechanism" in a way that is not, strictly speaking, "healthy." 

As uncomfortable as all this makes me, I know that you're right, I am lucky to have the chance to get as much help as I need. I'm sorry that you didn't have that chance.

It feels uncouth for me to complain, when my parents' resources have allowed me to do whatever I wanted with my life. My father never understood why I wanted to be behind the camera, rather than in front of it, but he did give me the money to do it. My mom, at least, was proud when I got my MFA in film production and direction from UCLA.

I'm sorry, this letter seems gross, but it is honest, which is something I'm working on.

I'm sorry, too, that you weren't allowed to watch movies as a kid. I can't imagine my childhood without movies. I liked reading okay, but I've always been easily distracted from the written word. So to be able to turn the lights out and just fully immerse myself in the world of a good movie (or even a bad one) for two hours? Bliss. (Even if my dad was in them--since then he wasn’t Howard Stark, he was Paul Revere or Julius Caesar or Jake the Snake or Major Tripp or any of the other characters he played.) 

For me, the best feeling in the world is getting to be in a theater full of people watching a movie I made, knowing that they're all sharing in the same story, knowing that I brought my vision to life and they're all getting to experience it. But watching a great movie someone else made is a pretty good feeling, too. When everyone simultaneously gasps or cheers...you feel like you're part of something. Like you're not alone.

On to more fun topics: movie recommendations. If you're looking for another movie to watch, and you really haven't seen very many...well, it pains me to say this, but you should probably watch one made by someone other than me. Try _Apocalypse Now_ or _Hurt Locker_ or _Ferris Bueller's Day Off_. _Star Wars_? Have you seen _Star Wars_? 

When I get out of here, you should come visit me in Malibu. My home has a private screening room. We can watch whatever you want. (Unless it turns out that you haven't seen _Star Wars_. You _have_ to see _Star Wars_.) I'll make popcorn. 

Do you have any book recommendations for me? Keep in mind: I've already read all of your books a thousand times, and the library here seems to mostly have several copies of _The Secret_.

Best,

Tony

PS: I hope it goes without saying, but I'm very glad you are still alive. Please continue to be so.

PPS: Okay, if you really want to watch another one of MY movies, my personal favorite of mine is called _House Party_. In some ways, it's a quieter, less dramatic story than my more action-oriented films, but I'm proud of the emotional atmosphere I created. (It also has a very good sex scene in it. I persuaded Steve Rogers to go full frontal--very brief, very tasteful, but still, just mentioning that, in case it's an enticement.)

* * *

Tony sat in the lobby of Fresh Start Rehabilitation Center for what he hoped would be the last time. He wouldn’t miss the mediocre artwork or the health-conscious organic rabbit food or the complete lack of privacy, but he’d miss Sam and a select few of the people he’d met (including Neel, the yoga instructor, who was ridiculously hot, even by LA standards). Still, he’d never been happier to see Happy, who gave him a hug before picking up Tony’s single suitcase and walking him to the car.

Pepper was waiting in the back seat with a bright red gift bag in her lap.

"Merry Christmas!" she said, as soon as he was settled. (She'd glared at him until he put his seatbelt on.)

"Pep, it’s December 23." Sam had convinced Tony that Hollywood holiday parties would be a potential trigger for a relapse of his substance use, and so he’d extended his stay at Fresh Start to nearly 2 months. But the thought of spending actual Christmas in rehab was bleak as hell, so they’d come up with a laundry list of healthy coping strategies and agreed he could leave on the 23rd as long as he promised to avoid New Year’s Eve parties. Which wasn't a big problem--Tony wasn’t anxious to see most of his Hollywood friends and frenemies. He knew there would be people celebrating his downfall. He'd already seen some of them giving out smug, holier-than-thou quotes to journalists.

Pepper said, "I know, but I’m too excited. Besides, I’m so proud of you, Tony. I know how hard you've been working."

"Can I open it?"

"Obviously."

The bag was unexpectedly heavy. He opened it and discovered a fake Oscar, like the ones they sold to tourists. But this one had been engraved "Tony Stark, Best Recovery."

He snorted. "Thanks, Pepper. I’ll put it in the bathroom with the others."

"You know, nobody thinks it's funny and humble to keep your Oscars in the bathroom."

"Who said I was trying for funny and humble? I just like to look at them first thing in the morning."

Pepper laughed and gave his shoulder an affectionate punch. "Ugh, I can't believe I missed you."

"Yeah, I bet the last couple months have been really relaxing for you."

"After I stopped worrying that your life was in danger, I started suffering from intense boredom."

"I think I can cure that."

"I'm sure you can."

"After the holidays, I want to have a press conference."

"A of all, you should talk to Rhodey about that...B of all, dare I ask what you're promoting?"

"The concept of mental wellness! I want to tell the media that I'm a recovering addict and I want to donate some money somewhere to help other people get treatment. That's the part I want your help with, researching good organizations to work with."

"Oh, Tony, are you sure you want to do that? So publicly?"

"Yeah, why not? I know people have already been whispering about it, I might as well scream about it. Maybe help, you know, fight social stigma and all that. I...I know I'm really lucky that I was able to get treatment, and to have people like you supporting me...and I know not everyone gets that. I already talked to Sam about it, he thinks it's a good idea."

Pepper sounded a little choked up when she said, "Well, I already gave you your trophy, you won't get another one for this."

"Really? You're sure you can't whip up a fake People's Choice Award or something? I'm being _very_ brave."

She shook her head, but Tony wouldn't be at all surprised if she followed through on his joking suggestion.

Back at home, Pepper took off her jacket, revealing her bright red sweater covered in Christmas tree lights. She led him to the dining room, where Natasha, Jarvis, Anna, Rhodey, and Carol were gathered. All of them except Natasha were wearing brightly colored holiday sweaters, per tradition. "Surprise!" Pepper said.

"Welcome home, Master Stark. I've prepared your favorite meal," Jarvis said drily. He waved his hand at the table, which was laden with what looked like the entire menu of an In-N-Out Burger.

Tony grinned at the spread of fried meat and potatoes. "God, I missed you all so much. And yes, I'm talking to the french fries."

Pepper said, "Wait, you have to put on your sweater before you can eat. Here." She reached into her oversized purse and pulled out Tony's traditional Christmas sweater. It was black and red and featured Darth Vader's helmet surrounded by snowflakes and festive TIE fighters. It was very ugly and Tony loved it very much. It had been a Christmas gift from Pepper years ago and had led to their traditional ugly sweater dinners.

He laughed and pulled it over his head. "You're right. Now it's Christmas."

Rhodey, laughing too, pulled Tony into a tight hug against his own hideous sweater. "Good to see you back home, man."

"I'm glad you're home, too," Carol said. Her sweater had an orange cat knitted into it and read 'Meowy Christmas.' "And, no pressure, but please make another movie as soon as possible so I can work on something fucking good. I mean, you know, get back to work at your own pace, but also I'm available to start tomorrow. I won't even ask for holiday pay."

Tony laughed and let Carol vent about the dumb horror movie she'd worked on as stunt coordinator after Obie's corrupted version of _World War Zero_ had wrapped. "This director was even dumber than Stane, no offense."

"None taken," Tony said.

"Tell him about the vampire makeup," Rhodey prompted.

"Oh god, the _vampire makeup_ ," Carol wailed. Tony gave Rhodey a small smile to thank him for redirecting the conversation. Tony didn't want to ruin this happy occasion with thoughts what Obie had done to Tony's movie.

After they were all stuffed with fast food, Jarvis's wife Anna shyly presented Tony with a cake she'd made. It said "Welcome Home Tony" in frosting and it tasted like manna from heaven. 

"I used to make this recipe for your birthday, remember?" she asked. He did; his parents had forgotten his birthday on multiple occasions, but Anna and Jarvis never had.

"Mmm, it tastes even better now. When I was a child, my palate wasn't refined enough to truly appreciate it."

"I think most kids appreciate sugar just fine," Pepper said.

"Not as much as I do right now," Tony insisted. It had seemed so cruel that Fresh Start had expected him to give up _all_ of his vices. 

"You're very kind," Anna said. Jarvis smiled and gave her a quick kiss. They'd been married for over 40 years and were still kind of disgustingly in love. Tony had been urging them to retire, but they'd refused thus far. Truthfully, he wasn't sure how he'd ever be able to replace them anyway.

Aside from raving about the cake, Tony was quieter than usual. Well, quieter than his pre-rehab usual. He was trying his best to live in the moment and enjoy each bite of food, each dumb joke his friends made. Their cheerful banter wrapped him up like a warm blanket.

But he felt something else, too. He forced himself to check in on his emotional state, the way Sam had taught him, and he realized he felt the slightest bit jealous watching his coupled friends interact. Tony had always been happily single, but while he'd been out pulling all-nighters in editing bays and having awesome one night stands, Pepper and Nat, and Rhodey and Carol, and Jarvis and Anna had all been building partnerships. And of course he valued their friendship--couldn't have made it through rehab without their friendship--but he was starting to realize he maybe wanted his own partner one day, sooner rather than later.

Of course, at this stage of recovery he was supposed to focus on himself, not new relationships. He wasn't supposed to start dating until after a year of sobriety. But he could live with that--for now, he had his friends, and his work, and his cheeseburgers. That was more than a lot of people had.


	7. I Want Your Midnights

Dear Bruce,

Happy holidays! (This card is kind of a cop-out, since I'm sending it on December 23rd and Hanukkah is already over this year. So please forgive my lateness if you're Jewish. Or something else. Are you Jewish? It's weird, I already feel like I know you very well and yet there are some basic facts about you that I'm clueless about.)

(In case you were wondering, I'm nominally a WASP but haven't darkened the door of a church in years, outside of weddings and funerals. Still, I can appreciate the aesthetics of Christmas--I love a sparkly holiday. Hanukkah's good for that too, though.)

Anyway, happy winter season, in whatever way you observe it. I'm finally home from rehab and I wanted to thank you again for all your letters and visits. I don't think I could have gotten through it without you.

I'm also writing to you with an invitation. It's not terribly glamorous, and I'll understand if you decline. New Year's Eve approaches, and I know that you, like me, will be looking for a sober way to spend our nation's booziest holiday. (Wait, is that New Year's Eve? It might be 4th of July. Or St. Patrick's Day? I haven't fact-checked this invitation, sorry.) My point is, would you like to spend New Year's Eve with me and some festive non-alcoholic beverages?

To sweeten the invite: I am very relieved to have learned that you have, in fact, seen the _Star Wars_ movies. But I happen to have a screener copy of the latest one, and I'd love to watch it with you.

I know this is short notice for the holiday season, and I'll understand if you already have better plans than this. But if you're interested, give me a call, and I'll give you the details. (I'm free now! Free to be chained to my iPhone 24/7.)

Best,

Tony

PS: In the interest of honesty: I'll _understand_ if you already have plans, but I will be extremely disappointed.

PPS: In the interest of curiosity, I just googled booziest holidays, and it turns out #1 is actually Mardi Gras, which I guess makes sense, but I never think of that as a holiday. New Year's Eve is #2, though, so please come spend it with me. We can figure out a plan for getting through Mardi Gras later.

* * *

Tony opened the front door for his guest himself. It was unusual, but Tony had wanted to give his staff the night off for New Year's Eve. (They'd been concerned about leaving Tony alone on the holiday, and only slightly reassured when Tony told them he'd have sober company.) He felt more nervous and excited for the arrival of his new friend Bruce than he ever remembered feeling before a date. Bruce was just so smart and talented, and Tony had made such a disastrous first and second impression. He really wanted to be friends, and maybe collaborators, with the reclusive writer.

He'd been so pleased when Bruce called to accept his invitation. Anxious to be a good host, Tony had asked if he had any dietary restrictions. Bruce had confessed to being a vegetarian, and then he'd shyly asked if Tony would mind terribly if Bruce brought his dog along, explaining that it would be difficult to find a dogsitter on New Year's Eve. Tony wasn't much of a dog person, but of course he'd agreed. Bruce could have brought ten dogs with him, as long as he came.

And now here Bruce stood on Tony's doorstep, with a...Tony wanted to say labrador? by his side. Bruce was wearing distressed jeans and a soft, emerald green sweater, and he had an NPR tote bag over one arm.

"Bruce! And...dog friend! You made it. Come on in."

"Thanks, Tony. Her name is Veronica. You can pet her, if you want."

Tony didn't really want to pet her, but he awkwardly rubbed her head. He could swear the dog side-eyed him.

Bruce laughed. "Not much of a dog person, huh?"

"Not really," Tony admitted. "She's cute, though."

"She's very well-behaved, don't worry."

"It would be hypocritical of me to expect all my guests to be well-behaved. C'mon, I'll give you a tour, and then we can get started."

"Sounds good. I'm excited to see the movie," Bruce said, reminding Tony that he'd had to bribe Bruce to lure him down from the mountains. He gave Bruce and Veronica an abbreviated tour, making sure to point out important rooms like the kitchen and bathroom, and then he led them to the screening room.

"Wow, this is much nicer than watching movies on my laptop," Bruce said.

"I should hope so."

The screening room had a few rows of movie theater-style seats, for the aesthetic, but it also had couches and recliners, for comfort. Tony had already set out a spread of snacks and (nonalcoholic) drinks on one of the room's low coffee tables. 

"Oh, here, I brought this," Bruce said. He opened his tote bag and pulled out a round loaf of bread, an unmarked mason jar, and a large Nalgene bottle. "I should have brought a plate or something, sorry."

"It's no problem, I have plenty of plates. But, uh. What is it?" Tony hoped he didn't sound too suspicious, but the jar's contents looked brown and mushy and the bottle was filled with a murky liquid. The bread, at least, looked normal.

"Oh, sorry, it's apple butter. I made it? With apples from my orchard. And kombucha. I brew it myself."

"Look at you, Little House on the Prairie!" Tony exclaimed. "Did you make this bread, too?"

"It's nothing fancy…"

"Fancier than anything I've ever made, I can tell you that. Okay, hold tight here one minute and I'll get a plate and a knife. Can I get you anything else?"

"Uh, no, it looks like there's enough food here for twenty people. Is...is anyone else coming?" Bruce's question was tinged with worry.

"Just us. But I wasn't sure what you'd like, so I got some of everything. Please, make yourself comfortable."

When Tony returned, Bruce had settled on one end of a sofa, with Veronica's head resting in his lap. Tony sliced the bread and applied some of the apple butter to a piece. "Bruce! This is delicious. I can't believe you made this."

"It's really not that hard," Bruce muttered.

"Learn to take a compliment, my guy," Tony said. "Anyway, ready for the movie? Or do you want to watch something else first?"

Bruce considered. "Let's watch it now, because if it's great, we might want to watch it again. And if it's bad, we'll need to watch something else to recover from the disappointment."

"Love the way you think." Tony started the movie, dimmed the lights, and settled in on the other end of the couch. Luckily, they both _loved_ the new movie, and watched in rapt silence. The silence continued for a few minutes after it ended.

Finally, Bruce said, "That was incredible!" 

"It really was," Tony said. He'd forced himself to turn off his director brain and just watch it as a fan, without thinking about changes he would have made. And it had been fun to watch Bruce's reactions out of the corner of his eye. He poured himself a glass of Bruce's kombucha and tried not to gag. He’d heard about kombucha but never tried it. It turned out to taste like garbage water.

"Bruce? Is, uh, is it supposed to taste like this?"

Alarmed, Bruce reached for Tony’s glass and took a sip. "Oh, yeah, this is normal. You don’t like it?"

"It’s, uh…"

Bruce laughed. "It’s kind of an acquired taste. I’ll finish this if you don’t want it."

"It’s all yours. Thanks, though."

"It has great health benefits."

"I mean, so does orange juice, and that has the additional benefit of tasting good." Tony opened a can of seltzer for himself and said, "Bruce, can I ask--and it's fine if you'd rather not say--but I was just wondering, how long have you been sober?"

"Oh. Well, I guess, all my life?"

"What?"

"I mean--I mean I've never had a drink. Of alcohol."

Tony blinked, trying to process that. He'd been somewhat surprised when Sam had gone through a checklist of potential signs of alcoholism and Tony had agreed to over half of them. Until recently, he hadn't really thought his drinking was a _problem_. (Which was itself, apparently, part of the problem.) He'd thought his only problem was the pills, but Sam had led him to understand otherwise. Apparently he'd been a high-functioning alcoholic for quite some time, until he'd added pills to the mix and teetered into dysfunction.

In discussions they'd had when Bruce visited him at Fresh Start, Bruce had sympathized with Tony's revelations about his alcohol use and told Tony that he was sober, too. And he'd said that he had spent time in rehab, so Tony had just assumed...

Tony struggled to say something that wouldn't sound judgmental. Finally, he remembered something Sam used to say to him all the time: "Could you say more about that?"

Bruce gave a tight half-smile. "It's just that my father was an alcoholic. And I never want to be like him. So I never drink."

"Wow."

"It's not all that impressive. I don't miss what I've never had. And I--I don't really like to be around people who are drinking. It makes me...uncomfortable." Bruce sipped his kombucha and looked down.

"Like, never? Not even at college, though?"

"Not even at college. But I also didn't really have any friends in college, so it's not like I was getting peer pressured," Bruce said with a wry laugh. Tony felt offended on Bruce's behalf--though it was obviously his college peers' loss. 

"What about, uh, drugs?"

"Only pharmaceuticals. As prescribed."

"So...um, then can I ask, what were you in rehab for?"

"Oh. I guess--it wasn't really a rehab. I just, I just meant, I'd been in a place kind of like where you were. But it was uh, a mental hospital. I was, uh, institutionalized, for, uh, treatment." 

Tony thought about the suicide attempt Bruce had once casually disclosed and winced. "Oh. Bruce, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry. Well, I mean, I guess I did mean to pry, but I didn't mean to make you talk about anything that's upsetting to you."

"No, it's okay. I--it's a fair question, given…"

"Given where we met?" Tony asked drily. 

"Yeah."

"Well, I...I just want you to know that you can talk to me, Bruce. If you want to. And, um, please let me know if there's anything I can do? To help. But there's probably not much, since I'm kind of a mess myself."

Bruce laughed. "No, it's--this is perfect, Tony, thank you. It's the best New Year's Eve party I've ever been to."

Tony forced himself not to think about some of the truly spectacular parties he'd been to on other New Year's Eves. He didn’t think about the one in Paris, or the one at Clooney’s house, or the one with the private Black Sabbath concert. He smiled at Bruce. "Good. I have a reputation to maintain." He checked his phone; it was still early. He quickly replied to the check-in texts he'd gotten from Pepper and Rhodey and said, "So, we've got plenty of time before midnight, do you want to--"

"Could we watch it again, please?" Bruce blurted. "If you don't mind."

"Bruce, I was so hoping you'd say that." Tony started the movie over again. This time, they felt comfortable chatting over it, pointing out things they'd missed on the first watch-through and making little jokes for each other. 

Then they decided to watch _A New Hope_ (original cut, obviously). Bruce let Tony babble about how impressive the practical effects were, far superior to CGI. And he let Tony put on the next movie in the trilogy. Somewhere in the middle of _Empire_ , Tony glanced at his phone and realized it was after midnight. 

He paused the movie and said, "Wait, we missed it. The countdown. Happy New Year!"

"Oh, wow. Yeah, happy New Year," Bruce replied. 

"I have a good feeling about this year," Tony confided. "Can’t be worse than last year."

"Yeah," Bruce said, barely audibly. Then he cleared his throat and said, "Uh, I guess I should get going, though."

"What? No way, we're in the middle of the movie. And plus you can't drive on New Year's Eve, there are too many drunk drivers. I know I gave you an abbreviated tour of the house, but I have like, twelve guest rooms. You have to stay. I mean, you don't _have_ to, I'm not kidnapping you, but...you really _should_."

"Oh, no, I don't want to impose…"

"Imposing would be if you made me worry about you driving home."

"But, Veronica…"

"Do you need dog food? I...I'm sure we can get some somewhere. Or there's plenty of human food she can have. Does she like bacon?"

"I brought some food for her, just in case. But I mean, I don't want her to…break anything."

"Bruce, I don't know much about dogs, but she seems chill as hell. I've had human guests who were way more likely to fuck up my house. Honestly, I myself am more likely to fuck up my house than that dog is."

"Okay," Bruce said. "If you're sure."

"I'm positive. I'll show you to a guest room. After the movie's over."

After the credits rolled on _Empire_ , Tony said, "It doesn't feel right to ring in the new year without completing the trilogy, right?"

Bruce smiled. "I guess not. But I should take V out, first."

"Oh, yeah, sure. Here, I'll walk out with you to the yard--you have to be careful because technically one side of the yard is just a cliff into the ocean--and then I can show you your room on the way back."

They put on their jackets and Tony slowly led the way outside. He was fairly steady on his feet nowadays, but he really didn't want to stumble and end up ringing in the new year in the emergency room.

"You have a really lovely house," Bruce said. 

"Thanks! I designed it. I mean, a licensed architect had to put their name on the final drawing, but...this is what I wanted," Tony said, waving his hand at the sleek glass lines. It was the complete opposite of the old school Beverly Hills mansion where he'd grown up.

"You have a good view of the sky out here, too. Not as much light pollution as in the city."

Tony tilted his head back slightly, though it still hurt his neck. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

Bruce pointed and said, "Look, Canis Major is really clear tonight."

"It probably just wants to hang out with Veronica." Bruce laughed appreciatively at Tony's weak dog joke.

After Veronica had done her business, Tony showed Bruce to his favorite guest room. It was the nicest, and the closest to Tony's master bedroom. "Oh…" Bruce said.

"Is something wrong?" Tony asked.

Sheepishly, Bruce said, "It's just...too nice? Do...you have any that are less nice? Can't I just sleep on the couch?"

"Absolutely not, you're my guest and you and Veronica deserve the finest guest room in the land."

"Well, I guess that's this," Bruce said with a small smile.

"Great. Now let's go watch some Ewoks."

But Tony missed the Ewoks. He closed his eyes somewhere on Dagobah, and then he felt Bruce gently shaking him. He opened his eyes to see the film's end credits scrolling by. He'd drifted off to sleep, apparently on Bruce's shoulder.

"Oh! God, Bruce, I'm sorry," Tony stammered. He rubbed his cheek, which definitely had the texture of Bruce's soft sweater imprinted on it.

"It's--it's okay," Bruce said. "I don't mind. I just thought, um, it would bother your neck? If you stayed like that."

Tony rubbed his neck ruefully. He must have been out on Bruce's shoulder for awhile. "Yeah, you're right about that. Sorry. I guess the party's over. I'll--I'll walk you back to your room. I know the house can be hard to navigate."

"Wait, I'll help you clean up," Bruce said.

Tony was embarrassed that he hadn't even thought of clean up, but he had given his entire household staff the night off. He surveyed the table of food and said, "Eh, there's a fridge in here, let's just put the perishables in there and I'll deal with the rest in the morning." Or, more likely, Jarvis would.

Back at Bruce's guest room, Tony said, "There should be towels and a bathrobe and such in the top drawer, there...if you need anything, let me know. I'm just down the hall."

"Thanks, Tony, this is really nice."

"No, thank _you_ , Bruce, honestly, this night would have been...pretty miserable without you." Tony meant it. He knew that his friends would have stayed in with him, but Tony would have felt guilty about keeping them from actual parties.

"I'm glad I could help. Goodnight, Tony."

"Goodnight, Bruce."

Tony retreated to his own bed and laid awake, staring at the ceiling. Tony had always been a casually physically affectionate person--Matt frequently warned him that he was a sexual harassment lawsuit waiting to happen, although so far he'd avoided that. He could usually keep his hands to himself in a professional context, despite his tendency to punctuate his verbal statements with shoulder squeezing and hair fluffing. But when he was among friends, well, if he was sitting next to someone on a couch, it felt nice to lean on them. He really had tried not to do that to Bruce, though, since his new friend seemed so shy. But apparently he'd fallen asleep and done it anyway.

Luckily, Bruce didn't seem _too_ bothered about it. Just his usual level of adorably awkward. Tony hoped for another chance to see Bruce soon. It was even nicer to see him outside of rehab.

Just as he was about to drift back sleep, in his bed instead of on Bruce, his brain finished processing some data and made an unwelcome observation: Tony had a crush on Bruce. 

No, that couldn't be right. He just respected Bruce's art, and valued his kind acts of friendship, and loved the way that green sweater had brought out his gorgeous hazel eyes…

_Fuck._ Tony had a crush on Bruce. He'd thought he was too old to have crushes, but...apparently not.

But that was fine. He didn't have to _do_ anything about it. He shouldn't do anything about it, not until he'd stayed sober for a few more months. Like eleven more months. It was fine. He'd just spend that time getting to know Bruce, and going to therapy, and not...doing anything inappropriate. 

He finally fell asleep, happy at the thought of getting to see Bruce again in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that I have introduced Veronica into the narrative, I want to reassure y'all that I live by Matt Fraction's rule of writing about animals, which means that I will tell you right now that _nothing bad will ever happen to Veronica_.


	8. I Know Places We Won't Be Found

Tony,

Hope you're doing well. Congratulations on your sobriety--I appreciated the statement you released.

Anyway, when you have a chance, can you help me out with something? I was looking over the contracts for _World War Zero_ and I've got something from Thaddeus Ross that doesn't add up. It looks like he made a deal with Stane for Department of Defense funding, but it's dated from the day before your accident. Given the circumstances, I wouldn't blame you for forgetting to mention something like this to your long-suffering lawyer, but...given how strongly you've rejected other DOD requests for collaboration, this really doesn't seem like something you'd sign off on. Was this something Stane had talked to you about? He certainly never asked me about it.

Take a look at the attached documents and let me know how you'd like me to proceed.

Best,

Matt Murdock

* * *

Tony read and re-read Matt's email and attached documents. His hands shook. He couldn't remember ever feeling so angry. He didn't know what he should do. He didn't know what he _could_ do. He closed his laptop and stared at his phone. He could call Matt, or Pepper, or Rhodey, or his new therapist Jane. Any of those people would be able to help him with this in some way. But he only wanted to talk to Bruce.

Tony had been successful thus far in keeping his crush on Bruce in check, but their friendship had grown into something intense. (This was something that Sam and Jane had both warned him about--this early into his sobriety, all of Tony's relationships would feel heightened and intense. It was why he was supposed to wait to start dating. But Tony had trouble imagining that he'd ever feel _less_ intensely toward Bruce. Luckily, Bruce seemed to reciprocate, or at least to accept Tony's intensity.)

Over the last few months, they'd moved from letters to near-daily phone calls punctuated by occasional visits from Bruce to Tony's home. (They couldn't do emails because Bruce, incredibly, didn't have internet access at home. By _choice_.) They never went out--Bruce was hesitant to go anywhere in public with Tony, which was fair, given the paparazzi attention Tony attracted. And Bruce had never invited Tony to his home. Which was fine, since Tony's house was extremely comfortable.

No answer from Bruce. Tony left a message, hoping he sounded casual as he said, "Hey, buddy, it's me. Tony. Um, just calling to say hi...well...no, actually I just got some upsetting news and I just...was hoping to talk? Thanks...bye."

He waited a few minutes, then tried to call him again. No answer, and Tony opted not to leave a second message.

He texted Pepper: "Going out for some fresh air, I'll be back in a bit." Then he went out to the garage, started up his Porsche, and plugged Bruce's home address into the GPS. 

He'd barely made it to the freeway when his Bluetooth announced a call from Pepper. Tony debated for a second but decided to accept the call; he'd only delay the inevitable. And he'd made her worry enough over the last year.

"Hey, Pep," he said.

"Tony, where are you? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Just going out for a drive."

"You're fine?" Her tone was suspicious.

"I mean--did you see those documents from Matt?" He knew she and Rhodey had been CCed.

"Uh, yeah, that's why I don't think you're fine."

"Okay...yeah, I'm upset. But I'm not going to do anything stupid. I just wanted to get out of the house. I'm driving along the coast." This was technically true; most of the drive from Malibu to Ojai was along the coast. He didn't want to mention that he was going to see Bruce, since on some level he was aware that it was kind of nuts to drive 60 miles to see someone who might not even be home.

"Are you sure you don't need to call Jane?"

"Yeah, I can wait until my next appointment on Thursday. I promise. And I'll call Matt soon, I just need a break first."

"Okay," Pepper said reluctantly. "But just let me know...just let me know if anything changes. Okay? And text me when you get there."

"Okay. Thanks for checking in."

"Take care, Tony. I'll be so mad if you don't." 

Pepper hung up. Tony laughed to himself and turned his music up. 

Given Bruce's desire for privacy, It didn't surprise him that Bruce lived outside of town, past orchards and vineyards. It also shouldn't have surprised him that the house was surrounded by a tall privacy fence with a callbox at the gate, but for some reason he hadn't anticipated it. Tony had not thought this trip through at all, but he was here now, so he tried the buzzer. 

After a long moment, he heard Bruce's voice over the tinny speaker. "Yes?"

"Uh...sorry, Bruce, this was kind of an impulsive trip..." The gate swung open before Tony could actually identify himself by name.

He pulled into the driveway of small ranch house. The house itself was unassuming, but the surrounding gardens were lovely. He noticed the house had solar panels and an elaborate rainwater reclamation setup. 

Bruce was standing by the edge of the driveway, wearing worn jeans and a T-shirt. He was dirty and sweaty and had green rubber Crocs on his feet. The look worked for him, except for the Crocs. Veronica stood by his side, tail wagging. "Tony?" Bruce asked incredulously. "Are--is everything okay?"

Tony got out of the car and didn't think before he flung his arms around Bruce.

"Oh, okay," Bruce said. "Um." He hesitantly patted Tony's back. 

After a moment, Tony stepped back. "Sorry. I'm sorry."

"No, no, it's just--I've been gardening, I didn't want to get dirt on you…"

Tony laughed.

"What?"

"It's just--sorry, I just showed up at your house uninvited and you're worried about getting dirt on me?"

Bruce shrugged. "That looks like a nice shirt you're wearing."

"It's not that nice."

"Okay. Well, what's up? Are you--are you safe?"

Tony bit his lip. He suddenly felt that he'd overreacted by coming here. He understood that Bruce was politely asking him if he was thinking about doing drugs or killing himself, and given the circumstances of their friendship, Tony couldn't really fault him for that.

"Oh, yeah, no, I'm...I mean I'm not going to--I just--I just really wanted to talk to you? And, uh, you weren't answering your phone, so I just…" He trailed off and gestured at his car in explanation, as if Bruce might be confused about _how_ Tony had gotten there, rather than why.

"Oh. I left my phone inside this morning, I'm sorry. Uh, well, do you want to come in? Do you want some tea or water? Or...well, I think I only have tea and water. And kombucha, but--"

"Water would be great, thanks."

Bruce led Tony inside and directed him to sit on a well-worn brown couch. He looked around curiously while Bruce busied himself in the kitchen. Tony was touched to notice that the Christmas card he'd sent Bruce was still stuck to the fridge with a magnet. 

It was no surprise that Bruce's home was full of books. Shelves overflowing with books, stacks of books on the floor, a pile of books on one end of the couch. It was pretty spartan other than the books, although there were a few framed photos and maps on the wall. Not maps, Tony realized--star charts. And there was a telescope set up by one of the windows. 

He didn't see a television anywhere, but there was a DVD of his movie _Arc Reaction_ on the coffee table. He picked it up and noticed it had a label from the Ventura County Public Library. 

Bruce came back with two glasses of water and noticed Tony holding the DVD.

"Oh, I have to return that soon," he said. He swept the books off the end of the couch and started a new pile on the floor, then sat next to Tony. "It was really good, though. I loved the effects. Sorry, that's probably not what you came here to talk about."

"No, it's fine, I'm always happy to talk about my movies, to be honest. By the way, I can send you copies of my stuff if you want? So you don't have to worry about library due dates?"

"No, thank you, I like supporting the library."

Tony smiled. "Of course you do. But. So. I--um. I just found out that...oh, I guess maybe I'm overreacting, it's just…"

"Hey, whatever you're feeling is valid." Tony had enough therapy sessions under his belt to recognize that Bruce was probably parroting back things he himself had heard in therapy. It reminded him that Bruce had already seen Tony at his worst and hadn't judged him.

Tony took a deep breath and said, "Okay, well, _World War Zero_ \--the movie I was working on when I had my accident--uh, I don't know if you know this, but the US Department of Defense offers a lot of support and subsidies to movies, if they'll show the armed forces in a way that they think is positive?"

"Yes, I know," Bruce said. His tone was terse, and Tony remembered how Bruce had once (unfairly!) referred to Tony's movies as "warmongering propaganda."

"So, I've never worked with them, because I didn't want to compromise my artistic integrity. Which, I mean, I guess is easy for me to say, since I didn't need their money. But it just doesn't sit right with me. It never has. Anyway, so, after my accident I was effectively removed from WWZ, and the director who replaced me...well, I thought he was just making a terrible movie through lack of skill, but I found out he actually took a lot of money from the DOD for it, and I just…" Tony had been speaking very quickly, and he forced himself to pause to breathe.

"Oh, Tony, that's terrible," Bruce said sympathetically.

"Obie--Obadiah Stane, that's the guy--he was a friend of my father's, and he...he'd worked with me forever, he knew me since I was a kid, he _knew_ how I felt about it, but he sold my work out to Ross in a _second_."

"What did you say?" Bruce asked, his voice tight.

"Oh--" Tony said. He'd gotten so swept up in his drama that he'd momentarily forgotten that Bruce had his own connection to Ross. "Right, you know that guy too, I think? He used to be a movie director, but that wasn’t working out so well so I guess he took a job as one of the DOD's Hollywood liaisons…"

Bruce's face looked pained, and then...something changed. The set of Bruce's lips, the expression in his eyes, the way he carried himself...all seemed to abruptly shift, and he screamed, "No Ross!" 

"Well, yeah, that's what I said, but it's too late to…"

"No Ross!" Bruce repeated.

"Bruce, are you okay?" Tony asked. He'd heard Bruce angry before--on their phone chats, he occasionally ranted about political candidates who sparked his ire, or books with emotionally manipulative twists. But he'd never heard Bruce _yell_.

"NO BRUCE!" Bruce said.

"I'm sorry?"

Bruce leapt up from the couch and threw his glass of water at Tony.

Tony wiped his face with his sleeve. "Bruce, what the fuck? Can I--should I call a doctor?"

"NO BRUCE, NO DOCTOR," Bruce said. He pulled his grubby T-shirt over his head and threw that at Tony too, then ran outside.

Tony stood at the window for a moment and watched as Bruce began to aggressively pull flowers out of his garden, seemingly at random. Veronica trailed behind Bruce. Tony pulled out his phone (fortunately, still dry) and called Nat. 

After he described the situation to her as best as he could, she said calmly, "Oh. Sounds like he's disassociating."

"What? Okay, so what should I do?"

"He's not hurting himself, is he?"

"No, he's just...hurting some flowers, maybe?" Tony could still see him out the window.

"Hmm. Okay, hang on, I'm gonna call Jen. Can you just keep an eye on him?"

"Yeah, of course. Should I call 911 or something though?"

"No, no."

Nat hung up without further ado, and a moment later, his phone lit up with a call from an unknown number. 

"Hello?"

"Hi, Tony?"

"Yes, who's this?"

"I'm Jen Walters. I'm Bruce's cousin. Nat said you're with him and he's disassociating?"

"Yeah, I don't know, maybe? Is that a thing he does?"

"Sometimes, yes, it's a thing he does. He shifts to alter personalities. Could you just tell me what he's been doing?"

Tony did, and she said calmly, "Okay. Sounds like he's Hulk right now."

"What does that mean?"

"Bruce hasn't told you any of this?"

"We...haven't really known each other that long, I guess." It pained him to admit that; he thought he'd gotten to know Bruce very well over the past few months.

She sighed. "Okay. Well, the short version is, Bruce has dissociative identity disorder." She paused for a moment, and when Tony made no reply, she added, "It's what used to be called multiple personality disorder?"

"Ohh. Like _The Three Faces of Eve_?"

"That movie is a problematic portrayal, but for shorthand, yeah, sure, like that. Anyway, Bruce has a few alters who take over...sometimes if he's stressed or upset, but sometimes...seemingly at random. They each have their own personalities and quirks...but they all just want to protect Bruce, okay? It's a coping mechanism. And he can't control them, and you shouldn't take anything he says or does personally. When he's not himself."

"Sure, of course."

"Anyway, one of his alters calls himself Hulk. He's like a permanent toddler. He's...I don't know. Sometimes he gets angry and acts out, like he's doing with the flowers right now, but he's also kind of sweet. Like I wouldn't be surprised if he eventually gathered all the shredded flowers into some kind of bootleg bouquet."

Tony suddenly thought he understood what had happened to Bruce at San Diego Comic-Con. "Okay. So...what should I do?"

"Well...look, when he's Hulk, he really shouldn't be left alone if possible, he doesn't...are you able to stay with him? I'm supposed to be in court this afternoon but if it's an emergency I can move to postpone…."

"No, of course, I can stay as long as he needs, but what should I do?"

"Just...I know this sounds weird, because he still looks like Bruce, but just pretend you're babysitting an actual toddler. Try to just go along with whatever he's doing, as long as it's not dangerous. It's good that he went outside, try to keep him there. Oh, and Veronica is a trained psychiatric service dog, so she'll try to help if she can." Tony _knew_ that dog was incredibly well-behaved. Jen continued, "Hulk can't work the privacy gate so he'll be safe in the yard."

Tony bit his lip and decided not to disclose that he had never in his life been responsible for an actual toddler for any length of time. He could still see Bruce through the window. He seemed to have paused his destruction of the garden in favor of petting Veronica. "How long will this last?"

"Eh...it depends. Hulk usually gets tired out quicker than the other alters. Still, this could wrap up in a few minutes or it might last the rest of the day. I'll text you his therapist's number in case you need it. You sure you're up for this?"

"Yes, of course," Tony said. He wasn't sure, but he knew he was willing to try, for Bruce. "Wait, did I do something to cause this?"

"No," Jen said immediately. Then she said, "Well, maybe you did on some level, but it's not...it's complicated, what might bring out an alter. It's not your fault."

"But I mean, are there things I should avoid doing?"

"Oh...just see if you can hang in there with Hulk until Bruce comes back. It'll be better if you can talk to him about this."

"Okay."

"Good. Well, look, I'm due back in the courtroom soon and I won't be accessible by cell until after 5, probably. But I'll check back in with you then. Really, he should be fine, but if anything gets really worrisome you can take him to the hospital. But save that for a last resort because sirens really scare Hulk."

"Uh...okay."

"Oh, and don't call him Bruce. Hulk hates being called Bruce."

"Yeah, I gathered that already. Thanks, Jen."

"Thank you, Tony. I hope we can meet in person soon. I've heard a lot about you." Jen hung up before Tony could follow up on that. What did Bruce say about him? But he could investigate that later.

He went outside to survey the damage Bruce had done to his garden. Tony wasn't much of a gardener, but he saw that Bruce seemed to have mostly pulled up whole plants by the roots. He knelt down and started to replant them with his bare hands. 

Bruce wandered over and observed Tony with wide, cautious eyes. Tony smiled and said, "Hey, uh...Hulk?"

Bruce beamed. "Friend!" 

"That's right, I'm your friend. My name is Tony."

Bruce watched Tony replanting the flowers and said, "Tony. Friend fix flowers?"

"I'm trying, anyway. Want to help me fix the flowers?"

Bruce eagerly knelt beside Tony and tried to mimic his movements. For a few minutes, the two men worked together quietly. Tony wasn't sure if they were actually doing any good for the plants, but there was something soothing about the activity. Then he heard Bruce gasp. Tony looked over at his friend and could tell that Original Flavor Bruce was back. The change in his face and body language was subtle, but unmistakable. 

Bruce crossed his arms over his bare chest, clearly more self-conscious than his alter ego. "Oh, god, Tony? Was...did…?"

"Hey, Bruce. We're just doing a little gardening. How do you feel?"

"I...Tony, I'm so sorry--"

"Hey, no, you don't have anything to apologize for. I'm the one who showed up unannounced. I'm sorry if I upset you."

Bruce shook his head. "I--I'm sorry. It's not your fault. But would you mind if I took a shower? We need to have a conversation, I think, and I'd rather be clean and fully-dressed for it."

"Bruce, of course. Do whatever you need to do. Please let me know if I can help with anything."

"No, just...just give me a few minutes, please."

"Take your time. I'm not going anywhere unless you want me to."

With a nod and a vague hand gesture, Bruce disappeared into the house. Tony finished replanting the flowers as best he could. He did a few stretches; gardening apparently used some muscles he hadn't used in awhile. He settled on a wicker porch chair, where he pulled out his phone and texted Pepper a quick update. Then he used his weak data signal to google "Dissociative Identity Disorder." What he learned--that it almost exclusively presented in people who had endured severely abusive childhoods--made his heart hurt.

He'd read through several web pages by the time Bruce emerged onto the porch with clean clothes and damp hair. He was still wearing the Crocs. "Uh...hey."

"Hey, Bruce. How are you?"

"I'm, uh, I heard you talked to Jen?"

"Yeah. I--I'm sorry if I shouldn't have? I just--I didn't know what to do, I called Nat and she called Jen. I--I was worried."

"No...I'm glad you did. Thanks for staying."

"Of course."

Bruce sat down on the other porch chair and twisted his hands together anxiously. Veronica trotted up to the porch and rested her head in his lap, and Bruce pet her. "So, Jen's message said she told you…uh, about me."

Tony nodded. "She told me a little, but she said it would be better if I talked to you."

"I probably should have told you about this sooner but I just...just really hate to talk about it."

"Hey. You don't have to tell me anything, but...you know I won't judge you, right? You remember where we met?"

Bruce nodded, but didn't meet Tony's eyes. 

Tony offered, "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Do you happen to have a time machine, so I could have already told you this?"

Tony smiled, remembering their first meeting. "If I had one, don't you think I would have used it already on some other stuff?"

Bruce shook his head slightly, and they sat in silence for a long time. Tony was on the verge of excusing himself to leave, when Bruce said, "Look, I--I know I said we should have a conversation, but would it be okay if I wrote you a letter? Like we used to do?"

"Sure."

"In--instead of talking about it, I mean. I want you...I want to tell you, but I, but…" Veronica whined and nudged Bruce with her nose. 

Tony nodded. "Of course." He stood up from his chair and moved to squeeze Bruce's shoulders. Bruce gasped in shock and dramatically flinched away from him.

Tony took a step back and put his hands in his pockets. "Oh, Bruce, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean…"

"I know, Tony," Bruce said miserably. "It's not personal…" He wrapped his arms around himself. Tony wanted so badly to give him a hug, but that obviously wasn't what Bruce wanted from him.

"I'm sorry," Tony repeated. "I--should leave now, right? Are you okay? Or should I stay? Can I help? I'd like to help but I'm afraid I'm making things worse."

"Yeah, no, I'd--I'd rather be alone right now. If--if you're okay? I'm sorry, I know you were upset when you came here, but I just..."

"Yeah, I'm okay." Tony was worried--about Bruce, about his production company--but he was okay enough.

"Okay. I'll--I'll talk to you later, Tony. Thank you for understanding."

Tony nodded. He didn't fully understand, but he wanted to. "Bye, Bruce, take care. Call if you need anything, seriously."

Before leaving, Tony sent a quick text to Jen, explaining what had happened and offering to head back if she thought it would be wise. He got no reply, and figured she'd still be in court for awhile longer. He hoped he was doing the right thing--he didn't want to force his company on Bruce if it was unwanted. And Bruce did live alone, so he was probably fine to be by himself? Jen had only asked him to stay until Bruce returned, which he apparently had. But what if he changed back? What if something happened? Tony couldn't stand it if anything happened to Bruce.

On his way home, Tony's mind raced faster than his Porsche. If he was being completely honest with himself, he was a little hurt that Bruce hadn’t told him about all this earlier. Bruce already knew all of Tony’s baggage. But then, Tony had only revealed most of it due to accidental mail delivery. He wasn’t sure what he might have told Bruce otherwise. Besides, Tony was used to being in the public eye. Bruce clearly had a very small social circle, and Tony knew he was lucky to be considered one of Bruce’s friends, whatever that entailed.

Some aspects of Bruce's self-imposed isolation made more sense now. But surely it wasn't completely necessary? He'd only done a few minutes of googling but he understood that other people with DID were able to live fairly normal lives, without becoming mountain hermits. So why was a man as smart and talented as Bruce hiding away from the world?

Tony still didn't know what Ross had done to provoke such ire in Bruce, but he now had another reason to want to take him down. Thankfully, he had an excellent legal team on his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of notes:
> 
> 1) In researching this fic I learned that [the DOD required changes to the scripts of both the Iron Man and Hulk movies](https://medium.com/insurge-intelligence/exclusive-documents-expose-direct-us-military-intelligence-influence-on-1-800-movies-and-tv-shows-36433107c307). Take a moment to imagine how mad Bruce and Tony would be about that.
> 
> 2) It's my understanding that for most people with DID, their alters have other first names like Bob or Joe, rather than nicknames or archetypes like "Hulk." But those kinds of nicknames aren't completely unheard of, and so I went with that for the Marvel AU of it all.
> 
> 3) If you're wondering what service dogs can do to help with PTSD, [it's often things like providing distractions and physical reassurance](http://www.servicedogsforamerica.org/about-us/service-dogs/ptsd-dogs/), which is mostly what Veronica does for Bruce.


	9. Darling, Our Scars Make Us Who We Are

Dear Tony,

I want to start this letter by thanking you for your friendship. I've lived a largely solitary existence, for obvious reasons. It has been such an unexpected happiness to get to know you over these last few months. And now I want to apologize, because you have been so honest with me, and yet I haven't really given you a chance to get to know me. All of me.

I saw the interview you gave about your own issues with addiction. I admire you so much for that. You’re so brave, Tony. I could never do something so public. I'm afraid it's taking all of my courage just to write this letter.

As my cousin Jen told you, I have a condition called dissociative identity disorder. I'm sure you've googled it by now, so you've probably learned that DID is frequently combined with PTSD and a history of child abuse. I have those as well, kind of a 3 for the price of 1 deal. (No returns on that sale, unfortunately.)

I've told you before how books were my escape when I was a child. But sometimes they weren't enough of an escape, so my brain tried to help me out by creating some mental escapes for me, my alters. Now that I'm an adult and my father is dead, these alters are no longer particularly helpful, yet they persist. Thanks to years of therapy and medication (and of course, support from my very good service dog), I'm happy to report that they appear more and more rarely with each passing year, but they are still a part of me. They will likely always be a part of me.

I will tell you a little bit about them, to the extent that I am able. (When I return to myself, I am unable to remember what my alters have done. It's a form of what's called dissociative amnesia.) I'm technically what's called a host to three alters that I'm aware of. They are mostly quiet inside my mind, although sometimes they will weigh in on a situation before deciding to fully surface--yes, sometimes I have voices in my head. 

But most of what know about how my alters present is what I've learned from what my therapists and few friends have told me. There's Hulk, who I believe you met. There's one Jen calls "Shy Guy," who is, well, very shy. He's incapable of speech and only uses ASL. (In one of the weird quirks of DID, he speaks ASL much more fluently than I myself am able to do.) And there's one called the Professor, who is, well, very smart. But unlike my own PhD in English, the Professor seems to have some useful scientific knowledge. (He actually contributed some key worldbuilding details to the Gamma Garcia books. Rationally speaking, I know that I must have read something and tucked it away unconsciously. But the outcome is that he just knows way more about space than I do on a conscious level, and he went through and left weirdly helpful notes on my drafts.)

None of them are dangerous. (Well...Hulk can get a little aggressive, but I hear he’s easily redirected.) They're mostly just strange and inconvenient, and embarrassing for me. There are some triggers that are likely to bring an alter out, although I've gotten better at recognizing and avoiding them. Veronica helps with this too.

If you're with me when I shift to an alter, the best thing you can do is just to go along with them, as long as they're not trying to do anything harmful. I know this is a weird thing to ask you to do, and I appreciate the kindness you showed to us when I shifted earlier this week. I'm sure it must have been very startling for you.

I will understand if you no longer wish to speak to me. But if you do...to be honest, I find my condition very embarrassing, but I can try to answer any other questions you have. I owe you that much.

Yours,

Bruce (and my mental roommates)

* * *

Text message from Tony Stark: Bruce, I got your letter. I can't believe how strong you are. There's nothing you (or any of your alters) could do that would make me want to stop speaking to you. You have nothing to be embarrassed about. Please call me when you're ready to talk.

Text message from Tony Stark: Actually even if you're not ready, please call me

Text message from Tony Stark: I know it's only been a few days but I miss you

Text message from Tony Stark: Or is it more accurate to say I miss y'all?

Text message from Bruce Banner: That's offensive.

Text message from Bruce Banner: You're not from the South, you can't say y'all.

* * *

Tony pulled up to Bruce's security gate and typed in the code. The gate swung open and Tony parked in front of the house with a smile on his face. It had been a little over a week since Tony's unannounced trip to Bruce's home had ended with Bruce in disarray. Tony had been delighted to receive Bruce's invitation to come up for lunch. He knew that it had been hard for Bruce to share his personal trauma with Tony, and he'd been afraid that Bruce would choose to return to his extremely reclusive ways, cutting Tony off entirely.

Tony stepped out of the car, carefully holding the coffee cake Pepper had procured for him. He'd been so used to bringing a bottle of wine as a host gift that he'd been thrown for a loop until Pepper had stepped in. Bruce opened the front door before Tony had made it up the steps. He was studying Tony with a guarded expression.

Tony put on his friendliest smile. "Hey, Bruce!"

Bruce relaxed slightly and replied, "Hey, Tony. Come in. Glad you could make it."

"Of course. Here, I brought dessert."

Bruce accepted the cake with a nod. "Thanks, but you didn't have to bring anything."

"I rarely _have_ to do anything, but I like to."

Bruce set the cake on the counter and said, "I made a goat cheese-asparagus quiche."

"Sounds great," Tony said, relieved that he meant it. He'd been nervous that Bruce might make whatever the food equivalent of kombucha was. 

"We can start with salad, if you want to have a seat?"

"Bruce, wait, first...there's something I've wanted to ask you since last week." Bruce froze, and Tony said quickly, "Could I give you a hug?"

Bruce let out a startled laugh. " _That's_ what you want to ask?"

"Well, yeah. I...I'm kind of a touchy-feely guy, with my friends anyway, but I finally realized how uncomfortable it makes you. But I thought maybe a little advance notice would help? 'Cause I'd still like to hug you. If you'd like to be hugged. But please tell me no if you don't."

Bruce thought about it for a moment, his expression unreadable, before nodding yes. Tony approached him slowly and Bruce still flinched slightly, but relaxed into it.

"Thank you," Tony said, after they stepped apart. Then he looked at Bruce's crumpled face and said, "Oh, what's wrong? Did I hurt you?"

Bruce shook his head. "No, sorry, it's just--I wish--I wish I could just be normal. I wish you didn't have to ask. I wish I could just get a hug from a friend like a normal person without freaking out about it."

Tony found himself reaching out his hand. He paused and asked, "Could I put my hand on your shoulder?" Bruce nodded, and Tony did. "Whenever someone tries to touch you, you think they're going to hit you," Tony said. It wasn't really a question.

"Tony, I'm sorry, of course I know you're not going to hit me, but…"

"Bruce, you don't have anything to be sorry for. _I'm_ so sorry that you've been hurt so badly. I'm sorry that you ended up with these coping mechanisms, but if this is what you needed to do to survive, then...well, I'm just so glad you survived. But I'd never want to hurt you."

"You think I don't know that?" Bruce asked, frustration apparent in his usually soft voice. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap."

"It's okay." Tony moved his hand in a gentle circle on Bruce's shoulder. "Is it okay if I keep trying to touch you with permission, or should I stop?"

After a long moment, Bruce said, almost inaudibly, "No."

"No?"

"I mean...no, you don't have to...stop. It's really nice when you ask first, though."

"I can do that. And I'm sorry for not always asking, before."

"It's not your fault. You didn't know how fucked up I was."

"Well, it is my fault. My lawyer's told me on multiple occasions that I'm lucky nobody's sued me for sexual harassment yet," Tony said with a laugh.

"I promise not to sue you, but I might cry on you if you're not careful."

Tony took his hand off Bruce's shoulder and held his hands out in surrender. "Oh no, anything but that," he said with a reassuring smile.

Bruce cleared his throat and said, "Um, anyway...salad?"

"Salad," Tony agreed solemnly. He sat down at Bruce's cozy kitchen table and let Bruce serve him some salad. Bruce was always trying to get Tony to eat more vegetables. Tony felt it was unfair to have so many healthy habits thrust upon him at once.

"Did you grow all of this yourself?" Tony asked.

"Most of it, yeah," Bruce replied. He visibly relaxed as he went into more detail than Tony really wanted about about the variety of arugula and the best time to pick radishes. Tony nodded and asked follow-up questions, just because it was nice to see Bruce getting his way through complete sentences without despair.

Then Bruce cleared their salad plates and brought out the quiche. He said, "Um, so, last week, I know you came up here because you wanted to talk to me about something, and we, uh...didn't really get a chance to talk."

"Oh. Well, that kind of goes with something else I wanted to ask you, actually? Was...I don't know...if there are certain conversational topics that will make you, um, shift? It seemed like it happened in reaction to something I said. And--I mean, I don't...mind...on my account...but it seemed like it was unpleasant for you?"

Bruce let out a breath. "It--it doesn't hurt...sometimes it's actually...kind of a relief...but it's just...embarrassing. There are certain triggers...sometimes it just seems random though. But--well, if I'm prepared for it, and it's not a surprise, I think I can keep it together. To talk about. Him. It. Unpleasant things."

Tony bit his lip. "Should we wait until after lunch? Just in case it would ruin the quiche."

Bruce smiled weakly. "Well, I'd hate to ruin the quiche."

"I bet you made it from eggs you grew yourself."

"You don't _grow_ eggs."

"If you're a chicken, you do."

"That's fair, I guess," Bruce admitted. "But no, I don't have my own hens. I’ve been thinking about getting some, though."

"That would fit with your doomsday prepper aesthetic," Tony teased.

"I'm not a doomsday prepper! I'm just...interested in lowering my carbon footprint. If anything, I'm trying to stave off doomsday."

"That's very noble of you."

"I guess I do also like to be self-sufficient. Not in a prepper way, but just…" Bruce trailed off and looked down at his plate.

"I'll tell you, I'm definitely coming to your place in the event of a zombie apocalypse."

"That sounds good. Safety in numbers," Bruce said, with the hint of a smile.

"This quiche is great, by the way. I'm glad we're not ruining it with difficult conversations."

"Just some easy breezy doomsday talk."

Before long, they finished eating the delicious quiche and Bruce cleared away the plates. "So...what did you want to tell me before?" he asked. 

Tony sighed. "I was just upset because this producer--Obie, Obadiah Stane, who I've worked with for years, he was a friend of my father's and I thought I could trust him--it turns out he was completely willing to sell out my script in order to get military subsidies. The weird thing was, he knew I opposed working with the DOD, but he signed a contract the day before my accident, before I was pulled from the film."

"Tony, I hate to ask, but...given that timing, are you sure it was an accident?"

"What? Of...of course it was," Tony said, though as he said it he was forced to admit that Bruce's paranoia made a certain amount of sense. Still, he hated to think it of the man who'd been like a second father to him. "I mean, the insurance company investigated the set...but actually…"

"What?"

"Well...the night I ODed...Obie sent me this gift basket with a bottle of champagne, that ended up on my nightstand. Which at the time I didn't think about that much, because I'd been getting a lot of gift baskets and I was kind of fucked up from the painkillers and I was just honestly happy it was there. And then afterward I kind of had more important issues to think about...but it was weird that it was in my bedroom instead of my office, and Pepper and Jarvis were so vigilant about not letting any alcohol in the house…"

Bruce looked at Tony with wide eyes.

"It was probably just an oversight…" Tony said weakly.

Bruce twisted his hands together. Veronica whined and rested her head on his lap. Bruce said, "Tony...you said this guy Stane was working with, with Thaddeus Ross, right?"

Tony nodded hesitantly, remembering Bruce's past reactions to Ross's name. "Yeah, he's one of the DOD's Hollywood liaisons now. When I knew him before, he was a director, but I guess that didn't pan out for him. Which makes sense because his movies were trash."

"Well." Bruce said. "It's just. Ross. He."

"Hey, you don't have to talk about it, if you don't want to."

"I...I don't want to. But. But you should know."

"You can write it, if that's easier?"

"Let me just...try."

"Of course. Take your time."

Bruce licked his lips and said, "Um. You know that movie. _Psycho Professor?_ "

"Mmm...yeah, I've heard of it, but I didn't see it. It looked awful."

"Well. I, uh, wrote it."

"Oh, shit, what?" Tony asked. He'd done a pretty thorough internet stalking of Bruce's career and hadn't seen any screenwriting credits.

"I mean. I didn't write _that_. But. He stole the basic idea, and a lot of the dialogue, from a short story I wrote. But he changed it, he made the ending so...it's...he…" Bruce took a deep, ragged breath and shook his head. Based on the title, Tony could only imagine what a wreck that movie have become.

"What did you do? Did you sue? I never heard about any of this."

"No, he...uh...the thing was. When I was in the hospital, after I, uh, tried to kill myself...there was a creative writing class. That I took. It was taught by his daughter, Betty. She was...so kind. So encouraging."

"But she gave your work to her dad?"

"Well...not...she didn't mean it...she didn't know what he would do with it. She thought she was...helping."

"Okay...but then she could have helped you sue his ass."

Bruce shook his head. "He told me no one would believe me. He told me it would just...that everyone would know how crazy I was. I...I didn't want my diagnosis...public."

"That son of a bitch blackmailed you."

"I--yeah--I guess you could call it that. He. Um." Bruce looked down and twisted his hands together, visibly distressed.

"But, Bruce, you don’t have anything you should have to hide." Bruce started shaking his head vigorously before Tony finished his sentence.

"Oh, no, Tony, it’s just too much. I’m just...I’m not like you. I’m...a private person." Bruce wrapped his arms around himself. Tony wanted to put his arms around Bruce, too, but the kitchen table was in the way, and he wasn't sure if Bruce would want that, anyway.

"But you don’t have anything to be ashamed of. Who do you really think public opinion would come down against: a beloved children’s book author who survived an abusive childhood, or some asshole movie producer who stole from him?"

"Well...I mean...when it happened I was just a fucked-up grad student. I wasn't...and--and so I just moved on. And that’s when I started writing the Gamma books. And for a while, things were okay...but then the books got so popular, and kids kept writing to me and I didn’t know what to say to them, and then I saw Ross at Comic-Con and I just knew he was there to try to get something from me, and I just...I just couldn’t. I couldn’t handle any of it."

Tony’s jaw was tight and he was forcing himself to take deep breaths, trying to figure out how to respond. He understood, better than anybody, how painful it was to have your work taken and corrupted into something awful. And then to blackmail poor Bruce, who shouldn't even have anything to hide...it made him furious.

"You’re angry," Bruce observed.

"Well, yeah."

Bruce slumped forward, a dejected look on his face. Veronica whined and hopped up onto his lap. "Yeah...I should have told you this sooner. I’m sorry."

Tony blinked. "Bruce, I’m not mad _at_ you. I’m mad _for_ you."

"...Oh."

Bruce looked confused, which made Tony even angrier. "It makes me so mad that some jackoff like Ross could profit off your work and make you feel so bad in the process."

"Our work."

"Huh?"

"He profited off your work, too."

Tony narrowed his eyes. "You’re right. I don’t want him to get away with it anymore."

"But what difference does it make? The movies are already made. It’s over."

"Well, maybe he’ll think twice before he does it again."

"You mean, maybe if I’d done something about it 15 years ago, he wouldn’t have done this to you."

"What? Bruce, no. You were a depressed grad student. I don’t blame you for wanting to move on. But _I’m_ Tony Stark and I have an excellent legal team. What the fuck am I paying them for, if not this? If nothing else, I bet we can get Ross fired from that cushy government job and make him have to go back to making his own shitty movies instead of just shoehorning the Army into somebody else's projects." He made himself sound more confident than he felt. Matt had warned him that this wouldn't be an easy case, if he chose to pursue it.

Bruce shook his head and said, "Be careful, Tony. You don’t know what he’s like."

"Yeah, well, he doesn’t know what I’m like."

Bruce gave a small smile and Tony felt emboldened to ask something he’d been wondering for months. "So is this why you’ve stopped writing?"

With surprise, Bruce replied, "Oh, I haven’t stopped writing. I write all the time."

"But you haven’t had a book come out in ten years."

"Well. I stopped publishing," Bruce said. He sounded embarrassed as he said, "I...make enough royalties from the Gamma books that I don't need to publish anything else ever again. I can just write for myself." 

That didn't make sense to Tony. Technically, he'd never _had_ to work. He could have easily lived off his parents' money for the rest of his life without lifting a finger. And he knew that made him lucky, that he never felt like he had to take on some dumb popcorn movie project or take government funding to stay solvent. He could focus on making movies he loved, exactly the way he envisioned them. But what was the point of making art and not sharing it with anyone?

"Okay...but...people would kill to read new material from you! _I’d_ kill to read new material from you. Not literally," Tony clarified in response to Bruce’s nervous expression.

"That’s just it! It’s too much pressure. What if nobody likes anything as much as they like the Gamma books?"

"Sophomore slump," Tony said, nodding sagely. "That’s a concern, I get it. But each of the Gamma Garcia books was better than the last, so you’re past that."

Bruce shook his head. "It’s different. The series was...I kind of conceived it all at once. This is all...new."

"Well...could I read something?"

"I don’t know…"

"Please? I almost died." Although Tony's bones had mended months ago, Tony saw no reason to stop trying to use his accident (and subsequent accidental overdose) for pity when it suited him. He felt he’d earned it.

Bruce quirked his lips. "I’ll think about it. It’s nothing personal, okay? I haven’t let anybody read any of it, not even my editor."

Tony raised his eyebrows. He loved making movies because he loved sharing stories with people, and making them _feel_ something. He would hate to make a movie and never release it. He couldn't imagine having ten years' worth of material hidden away somewhere, unseen by anyone. But he decided not to push Bruce too much. Not yet. "Okay. But please think about it. I’d love to read anything new from you. I could pay you in chickens!"

"Ah, yes, the traditional dowry for new material from washed up authors."

"You’re not washed up! You’re reclusive. Mysterious. Like J. D. Salinger."

"I'm no Salinger," Bruce said.

"You're better! That guy seemed like he was probably a real dick."

"Can we please just...talk about something else? What about you, what are you working on?"

"I don't know. I have some ideas but it's still hard for me to focus on anything." The truth was, Tony kept finding himself drafting scripts and sketching out storyboards for scenes from the Gamma Garcia books, but he didn't want to mention that to Bruce. Bruce had made his thoughts very clear about his lack of interest in movie adaptations of the books, and Tony didn't want Bruce to get the wrong idea about Tony's friendship. Especially not now that Tony knew what Ross had done. He tried to think of his Gamma work as warm-up exercises he was doing to get his creative energy flowing. Eventually he’d find a new project. He hoped it would be soon, he was getting stir crazy. Tony thrived on the chaotic energy of a film set. 

"Did you ever think about doing a zombie movie?"

"I don't know. Zombies are pretty played out right now, I think. Maybe if I had something new to say."

"What about...zombie chickens."

Tony laughed. "That sounds like _Birdemic_."

"What? That's a thing?"

"Oh, Bruce, you have to see _Birdemic_. It's hilarious. An all-time classic of the so-bad-it’s-good genre."

"And it's about zombie chickens?"

"No, not exactly. But it's every kind of birds, so presumably chickens would also be afflicted by the titular birdemic. I do take your point, though; maybe a new zombie take on the overlap between doomsday preppers and hipster homesteaders…"

"I'm not a hipster!"

"Who said I was talking about you? My movie isn't about _you_. It's about a reclusive hipster children's book author who has zombie chickens. You don't have any chickens."

"And I'm not a hipster."

"Of course not," Tony said with a teasing smile. This was now familiar banter for them; Bruce had thus far been unable to live down bringing home-brewed kombucha to New Year's Eve. But, like all hipsters, Bruce hated being called a hipster.

"I was going to ask if you wanted any cake, but now I'm not going to."

"What? Bruce, I almost died, you can't withhold cake from me."

"You've got to put a cap on the number of times you play the near-death experience card, Tony. It's going to lose all of its effectiveness."

"It hasn't yet with Pepper!"

Bruce leaned in and said, with faux gravity, "Well, here's the thing…I _also_ almost died."

Tony laughed. "Okay, I surrender, the cake is yours."

"See? It's 'cause I don't bring it up that often. It hasn't lost efficacy."

"Maybe it's just 'cause you're so cute," Tony blurted out.

Bruce snorted. "Nah, I don't think that's it."

Tony stood up and brought the cake over to the table. He looked at Bruce and said, "Hmm, you're right, that right there is a face I could steal cake from." He cut off a piece and started to put it on his own plate, but stopped and said, "No, I can't, something is compelling me…" He changed course and put the cake on Bruce's plate.

"Yeah, you remembered how mentally ill I am and decided to pity me," Bruce said.

"Ah, that can't be it. I'm a selfish addict," Tony said brightly. He cut another piece of cake and took a bite. "Ooh, this is good."

Bruce shook his head, a small smile on his face. "It's nice to be able to joke about all this," he said softly. Then he took his own bite of cake and said, "Oh, it is good cake."

"Yeah, I'd never joke about cake."

After they ate their fill of cake, Bruce cleared the table and gave Tony a shy look. Tony knew that Bruce had a limited amount of social energy, and he suspected Bruce was reaching the end of it. At least today had gone much better than Tony's last visit. "Tony, thank you for coming. And bringing cake. And for, just...thanks."

Tony smiled. "Thanks for having me, Bruce. I know you're, uh, not really used to visitors."

"You can come back when the zombie apocalypse begins. Or...or sooner, if you want."

"I'd like that."

Bruce hesitated before asking, "Could...I give you a hug?"

Tony's smile widened. "I'd really like that."

Bruce gently put his arms around Tony and lightly patted his back. Then he ducked back over to the kitchen counter before walking Tony out to his car. Tony went home that afternoon with a metal bento box packed with leftover quiche and cake and a determination to make Ross and Stane regret messing with his and Bruce's artistic endeavors.


	10. Another Day, Another Drama Drama

Tony,

Like I mentioned on the phone, this is going to be a tricky case to pursue. Especially since we already went to lengths with the DGA and WGA to remove your credits from the film after you saw Stane's rough cut. Although I know how much you oppose the practice, it's perfectly legal to accept Department of Defense money for film production. 

But hey, I love a challenge. 

What we're looking for is going to be breach of contract with Stane, since he was meant to be carrying out your wishes as director. Can you send us any informal communications you had with Stane about the movie? Emails, texts...anything to help build the case that he was explicitly and knowingly acting against your wishes (and his contract, which, as you know, was painstakingly negotiated with me). 

Matt

* * *

Matt,

Unfortunately, most of our communication was over Skype, but I’ll see what I can dig up. I’m also CCing Pepper, since she handled a lot of communication immediately after my accident.

Thanks, 

T

* * *

Matt,

Please see these attachments. In Tony's absence, I was _very_ clear to Obadiah.

Best,

Pepper

* * *

"Master Stark? Are you alright?" Jarvis asked.

Tony took off his headphones and looked away from the computer screen. From Jarvis's tone, he suspected that it wasn't the first time Jarvis had asked that question. "Uh, yeah, fine, sorry, just...spaced out."

"Dr. Banner is here, sir." Tony twisted in his chair and saw Bruce and Veronica standing in the doorway behind Jarvis.

"Oh! Shit, sorry, I completely...sorry, come in."

"Do you require anything else?" Jarvis asked.

"No, no, thanks, Jarvis."

"Very well. You know how to reach me if needed."

Jarvis took his leave with one last concerned look at Tony. Though he'd arrived at exactly the time he'd been invited, Bruce politely asked, "Is this a bad time?"

"No, no, you're right on time, it's just." Tony raked his hand through his hair and said, "Can I show you something? I...I need to be sure that I'm seeing it right." He stood up and gestured toward his desk chair. Bruce obligingly sat down.

"What is it?"

"Well. I--when I had my accident, it was because I was testing out this new HD drone camera I'd rigged up. But it malfunctioned and got stuck in a scaffold. So I climbed up after it, but the scaffold collapsed, and I fell. In all the chaos after that...the actual drone was pretty much forgotten about. But it was set up to transmit all its footage to the cloud. So I was just going back and looking at the footage it captured, and, um. Well, that's what this is. Well, no, I should warn you--I--I think it's...Thaddeus Ross. I think he...I don't know. Is that okay? Can I show you this?"

Bruce bit his lip and nodded. "I...yeah, if you need a second opinion, I, uh. I'll take a look." Veronica, trained to pick up on Bruce's moods, whined and jumped up on his lap.

"Thanks, Bruce. I appreciate it." Tony started the clip from the beginning. "So the camera could be controlled by remote, but it also had a motion activated sensor." They both watched as the camera came to life and displayed Ross's face in extreme closeup. The footage was shaky, as he did something to the drone, and then it blinked out. "It's not much to go on, but why the fuck was he even there? That time stamp is from the day before I fell. He wasn't even working with the film then. Anyway, it's shaky, but that's definitely him, right?" He looked to Bruce for confirmation. 

Tony blinked as Bruce stared back at him. Something was off. His eyes looked lost, and his posture had taken on a cringing air. Veronica twisted her head and looked at him. It seemed to Tony that there was a hint of accusation in her eyes. “I tried to warn him,” he muttered to the dog.

"Bruce?"

Bruce shook his head brought his first two fingers down against his thumb, signing "no."

"Oh. You're the one Jen calls Shy Guy?" Tony asked.

Bruce signed yes.

"Is there another name I could call you?" 

Bruce shrugged. Then he started signing something rapidly.

"Whoa, sorry, slow down. I, uh, I downloaded an app, when...when Bruce first mentioned you spoke ASL, but I didn't…" Tony fished out his phone and said, "Okay, what was that?"

Bruce gave Tony and his phone a curious look, and then signed, "Never mind."

"Well. Okay. I’m trying to listen, though.” Tony looked at Bruce for a long, quiet moment and then said, "I'm sorry, I don't...I'm not sure what to do. Would you like me to do something?"

Another silent shrug followed.

Tony tried again. "I, uh, originally you, uh, Bruce was coming over to watch a movie. Do you want to watch it or should I...uh...wait for Bruce?"

Bruce thought about it for a moment and signed, "Movie please."

Tony smiled. "You got it. Uh, could I get on my computer for one second first?"

Bruce and Veronica got up from the desk, and Tony quickly sent the video clip of Ross to Matt, along with a quick description of what he thought was happening, knowing Matt wouldn’t be able to watch the video himself. Then he shut down the computer and led Bruce and Veronica to the screening room, where he set up _Birdemic_.

Bruce watched the start of the movie with rapt attention--more attention than the terrible movie merited. Tony was used to chatting through bad movies, but it felt weird to talk when he knew he couldn't really understand Bruce's replies. Then he had an idea. He pulled out his phone again, but instead of using the ASL app, he just texted Bruce, "Can we talk this way?"

Bruce looked down at his phone with surprise. After a long pause, he finally texted back, "Difficult."

Aloud, Tony said, "That's fine, buddy, we don't have to talk. I just thought I'd check."

Bruce signed his thanks. They kept watching in silence--Bruce's current alter didn't seem to find the movie's clunky acting funny, and Tony felt weird about laughing by himself. But then the titular birdemic began in earnest. When the birds started to explode, Bruce made a distressed sound and covered his face with his hands. Tony turned off the movie and said, "Hey, sorry. Do you want to watch something else?"

Bruce startled Tony by turning to him and pressing his face into Tony's chest. His movement displaced Veronica from his lap. She sat at Bruce's feet. Cautiously, Tony stroked Bruce's back. "Is this okay?" he asked. Bruce nodded once. "I'm sorry if the movie scared you," Tony continued. "I don't know much about you." 

Bruce had told him a little bit about each of his alters, but he didn't have a sense of how old this one might be. He'd said Hulk was like a toddler, and the Professor had always been middle-aged. This one seemed childlike, but Tony wasn't sure. He definitely didn’t seem to like _Birdemic_ , but that could just represent good taste. Or maybe Tony had just showed a badly-made adult horror movie to a traumatized child. He made a mental note to get more details from Bruce when possible.

A small, shitty part of Tony enjoyed the fact that Bruce was curled up against him on the couch, but he knew it wasn't really _Bruce_ and that it didn't mean anything. Still, whenever he could provide some sort of comfort to Bruce, he was happy to do it. He kept quietly rubbing Bruce's back until Bruce pulled away and sat up.

Again, Tony asked, "Do you want to watch something else?"

This time, Bruce signed "yes." 

"C'mere." Tony led Bruce to a shelf that spanned the screening room's back wall. It was packed with DVDs and Blu-Rays. "Here, take your pick."

Bruce solemnly studied the shelf for several minutes and finally picked out _Star Wars: A New Hope_. Tony laughed. "Glad to see we have something in common, buddy."

Tony ignored a couple calls from Matt as they watched the movie together. He checked his email and saw that Matt had replied to the video clip with, "Holy shit, what? Stop dodging my calls, we need to talk." Tony typed out, "Something came up, I'll call you tomorrow."

"You are my worst client," Matt replied. Tony put his phone away and kept an eye on Bruce.

After the movie ended, Tony walked Bruce to his usual guest room and said, "Okay, you need anything before bed?"

Bruce signed something that Tony didn't understand. "Uh...hang on." He pulled up the ASL app and said, "What was that?"

Bruce made the gesture again, and the app translated, "Stay."

"You want me to stay tonight? With you?"

Bruce signed, "Yes, please."

"Uh...yeah, sure," Tony said. Fully dressed, he settled on the guest room couch, pulling a spare fleece blanket over himself.

Bruce smiled and signed, "Good night."

Tony signed it back. He scrolled through his phone, intending to wait until Bruce fell asleep and then return to his own bedroom. It was clear that this alter had different boundaries, and he wasn't sure how the intensely private Original Flavor Bruce would feel about waking up in the same room as Tony. 

But then Tony woke up to Bruce's hand gently shaking his shoulder. Tony sat up on the couch and tried to catch his breath.

"Hey, Tony, it's okay," Bruce said soothingly.

"I--I was falling," Tony remembered.

Bruce nodded. "You were screaming."

"Oh--god, I'm sorry." Tony brought a hand to his throat, which did feel raw, now that Bruce mentioned it.

"It's okay. Trust me, I understand nightmares."

Tony was still breathing hard. Softly, aware that once he vocalized it he wouldn't be able to take it back, he said, "I think Obie tried to kill me. Or have me killed."

Bruce squeezed his hand around Tony's shoulder. "I think you're right."

"Christ, that's so fucked up."

Bruce snorted. "That's one way to put it."

Tony rubbed his face with his hands. After another moment, he said, "I--I'm sorry I woke you. I--I hope you don't mind, but, uh, your alter asked me to stay, before he--you? fell asleep."

"Ah. No, of--of course I don't mind. Thank you. You're always so kind to--to us."

Tony shrugged. "You're all easy to be kind to. But--look, I'll--I'll let you get back to sleep. I can go back to my own room. If you're alright."

"Oh--I'm fine. But you could stay if you want." Tony hesitated, and Bruce said, "You just found out that your family friend tried to murder you. You don't have to be alone tonight."

"...okay," Tony mumbled. He stretched back out on the couch. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to fall back to sleep at all, but it was nice to know Bruce was there. "Thanks."

Bruce said, "It--it's a really big bed, Tony. If you want. It's probably not good for your back to sleep on the couch."

Tony did want to share a bed with Bruce, but not under these circumstances. Still, he didn't want to be alone. And his back did kind of hurt. He swallowed and said, "Okay. Thanks. If--if you’re sure it's okay."

Bruce smiled and said, "Yeah. I’m sure.”

Tony followed Bruce into bed and turned off the bedside lamp. He was surprised by how quickly he fell into a sound sleep, lulled by Veronica snoring between him and Bruce.


	11. The Best of Times, The Worst of Crimes

Matt,

I tracked down that insurance investigator you asked me to look into. I don't have anything connecting him to Stane or Ross yet, but he's definitely crooked. I got his photos of the scaffold Stark fell from and sent them to another investigator to verify. I'll let you know what I hear.

My gut says nobody investigated this too deeply because it was the story everyone wanted it to be. Well, everybody but Stark, I guess.

Let me know how you want me to proceed. 

\- JJ

PS I heard Stark is sober now. Tell him if he's got any extra whiskey lying around, I'll take it as a tip. In addition to my full rate, obviously.

* * *

Jess,

Thanks. This is helpful. I have another tip--check in with Ross's daughter, Betty. She's a professor at UCSF and she might have some good intel for you.

Matt

* * *

"Whoa, what happened in here?" Bruce asked, taking in the disarray in Tony's office. Tony looked up and smiled at the sight of Bruce and Veronica standing in the doorway. Bruce was wearing a plaid flannel shirt that looked frankly adorable on him.

Tony forced himself to stop wondering if Bruce's shirt was as soft as it looked and replied, "Ugh. Just trying to see if I can dig up any other evidence against Stane, trying to prove that he was sabotaging me. It's still so weird to say that. I don't expect there to be much--it's mostly going to be digital, or anything really official is in Matt's hands already...but it doesn't hurt to check. Actually it does kind of hurt, I think I got a papercut."

"Anything I can do to help?"

"Keep me company? Sorry, I know it's boring but I really just have one more box to go through, and then I can bounce the ball back to Matt and we can have dinner."

"Sure." Bruce and Veronica settled on Tony's office couch. "How's the case going?"

"It's not. Going, I mean. I guess Matt's trying to see how much evidence we can collect on our own, and then we can decide if we want to try to report this as a crime to the police, or sue in civil court."

"It is a crime, though, right? I mean...they tried to kill you. What's going to stop them from trying it again? I don’t know about Stane, but I do know that Thaddeus Ross is used to getting what he wants."

"Well...the other attempts were pretty...hands-off, crimes of opportunity. Neither of them seem like they're just going to come at me with a gun. Also...they already got the movie they wanted. And Stane has been removed as COO of Stark Productions, so as far as I can tell, he doesn't have much to gain from my death," Tony said. "Not anymore." He shuddered to think; if he had actually died in that fall, Stane would have been well-placed to take over Stark Films. God only knew what he would have done with the company Tony had worked so hard to build up.

Bruce did not seem satisfied with that answer. "Still, though. It's ridiculous that they haven't already been arrested. You could have died!" 

"Yeah...but Matt pointed out that if this case is weak, a civil case might be more damaging to them in the long run? I don't know...this is kinda what I pay him for."

Bruce cleared his throat. "Hey, uh, just wondering, did Betty give you any good information?"

"Oh...I haven't heard anything. Matt sent a private investigator to talk to her, he said it's better that way? I don't know. But thank you, for suggesting her."

"You're welcome. I--I hope she helps. I hope you can send those assholes to jail for a long time."

"Me, too." Tony flipped through a goldenrod copy of the _World War Zero_ script, looking for any useful notes he might have made.

Bruce picked up a stray sheet of paper off the floor and studied it with a frown. "Hey, what's this? It looks like…"

Tony looked up from the script and felt a sense of horror as he realized what Bruce was holding. "Oh, no, nothing, just some doodles I did for fun."

"It doesn't look like doodles. It looks like a storyboard for a scene from _Gamma Garcia and the Oxygen Overload_."

"I mean, okay, yes, it is technically that, but…"

Tony trailed off as Bruce sifted through more papers, a thoughtful look on his face. Why couldn't Bruce just look at his phone when he was bored, like a normal person? Panicked, Tony said, "Look, Bruce, I obviously wasn't going to do anything with those, they just kept running through my mind. I--I've told you how many times I read your books, and I just, that's how I processed them...I had a lot of time on my hands when I was on bed rest. But--I know you don't want to make a movie and I would never do anything to disrespect your wishes. And also, I was almost _murdered_ so you can't be mad at me."

Bruce laughed. "I'm not mad. These are really good, Tony. This looks just how I imagined the lunar bunkers."

Tony exhaled. "Oh. Uh, thanks."

"Are there more of them?"

"I, uh, yeah, probably." There were definitely a lot more of them, but Tony was pretty sure most of them were safely filed away in his desk, where Bruce wasn't likely to stumble across them.

"But you don't want to make a Gamma movie?" Bruce asked. He sounded curious, rather than angry.

"Uh...not without your permission, obviously."

"So you do? Why didn't you ever tell me about this?"

"Well...Nat said you really didn't want there to be movie adaptations of your books, and then after I got to know you I just…" Tony ran a hand through his hair. "Your friendship is...important to me, and after the way you responded to my first letter...I didn't want to...I didn't want you to get the wrong idea. I want to be your friend whether or not a movie ever gets made."

Bruce nodded slowly. "I can appreciate that. I guess I did...react pretty strongly. I...haven't had the best experiences with Hollywood. And I didn't know...I didn't know you then."

Tony dared to ask, "Does this mean...you would be open to making a Gamma Garcia movie?"

"I don't know. Maybe." Bruce twisted his face and said, "It's not that I don't trust you--I think you're the only person I'd trust to do it right." Tony felt a warm glow from the compliment. But Bruce continued, "It's just...seems like it would end up putting me back on, you know, the public attention radar. And I--I don't know if I could handle that."

"Sure, I get that," Tony said. He didn't expect the soft "no" to hurt so much; he'd already resigned himself to the fact that he'd never have the chance to make the movies of his dreams. He felt terrible that Bruce had been so badly burned in the past, but part of him still hoped that he could eventually convince Bruce to collaborate with him.

"I'm sorry," Bruce added. "It's just taken me such a long time to get as...as stable as I am now, which, you know, still isn't great."

Tony shook his head. "Bruce, they're your books, and your life. It's your right to decide what to do with them. But for what it's worth, I think you're doing great. For starters, you're dressing yourself more successfully than most hipsters half your age."

Bruce gave him a sad smile and sifted through more papers. Tony returned to his task, fairly confident that he wasn't going to have anything useful to send Matt. Then his eyes widened when he found a sealed envelope at the bottom of the box. Tony had a bad habit of using whatever paper was handy when he wanted to sketch out ideas. The back of the envelope was taken over with a rough design for the scaffold they'd erected in the desert. The front of the envelope was addressed to Obadiah Stane care of the hotel they'd stayed at in Marrakech while filming. It was from Thaddeus Ross, and it was postmarked about a week before Tony's accident.

"Oh, shit," Tony said.


	12. You Make Me So Happy It Turns Back to Sad

Mr. Stane,

Thank you for your recent donation to the Ross Foundation. I appreciate your generosity and look forward to working with you soon. 

I've enclosed your receipt for tax purposes.

Regards,

Thaddeus Ross

* * *

Tony,

You're right, the letter you found isn't exactly a smoking gun but it is pretty shady, especially in conjunction with everything else we have. I think it's time this becomes a criminal case. Call me when you're ready and we'll go down to the police station together. Given that the events cross country borders, the FBI will probably get involved, but we'll start local.

Matt

* * *

"Tony, remember, if any reporters see you, you can't comment on an ongoing investigation. Got it?" Rhodey asked. He took a long sip of coffee.

"Yeah, no, I know, Matt told me like, fifty times." Tony shredded a croissant with his fingers.

"It's just that--"

"--I don't always listen, I know," Tony said, hoping he sounded contrite.

"But this is really important. You absolutely don't want to interfere with the investigation. It's out of your hands now. In fact, you should probably get out of town. Take a little vacation. Somewhere with cell service, obviously, but…out of LA."

"Yeah, Matt suggested that too."

"So why are you still here?"

"I haven't had coffee yet!"

"Tony…"

"Okay, yeah, I can do that. Not like I'm getting any work done around here anyway." Tony had been tired and distracted, completely unable to focus on anything. It was the worst feeling for someone who prided himself on his work.

Rhodey glanced at his phone and said, "Shit, I gotta go. You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay."

"Cool if I take this last croissant?" Rhodey asked, already wrapping it in a paper napkin.

Tony looked down at the pieces of pastry on his plate. "Yeah, fine."

"Thanks, Tony. Hang in there. Call me if there's anything I can do to help."

"Yeah, thanks, Rhodey."

"I think it's a great idea for you to get out of town," Pepper said from behind him.

Tony turned. "Jesus, Pepper, how long have you been standing there?"

"I came in for more coffee. Rhodey waved at me. I thought you saw."

"Well, I didn't."

"Okay, grumpy. Are you getting enough sleep?"

"Probably not." Tony had been having the same falling nightmares ever since he'd realized his accident was probably not accidental, but since that first night with Bruce, he hadn't had anyone to help him get back to sleep.

"Well, all the more reason for you to take a vacation. Want me to book something for you? Palm Springs, maybe?"

Tony ate a piece of croissant. "I was thinking I might ask Bruce if I could stay with him for a while?"

Pepper gave him a cat-who-ate-the-canary smile. "Bruce, huh? What's going on there, anyway?"

Tony shrugged. "We're friends. He lives in the middle of nowhere. Seems like a good place to get away."

"Hmm. He is cute, though, right? I mean, for a man."

"Yes, obviously he's extremely cute, but…"

"But what? He must like you, he comes around often enough."

"Well, you know, I'm not supposed to...date anyone...until I've been sober for a year."

"Whoa," Pepper said.

"What? You knew that. I'm sure it's in your long list of doctor's instructions for the Care and Feeding of Tony Stark."

"Yeah, I'm just impressed you're following instructions."

Tony sighed. "I'm trying to, anyway. Besides, I...I don't know what Bruce would be...up for. He's so...solitary."

"Aw, Tony. I've seen how he looks at you. I think he'd be up for just about anything you asked."

Tony couldn't quite keep himself from smiling. "I hope you're right. And...in five months...maybe we'll find out. But for now...I'll see if he'll have me for a few days."

He pulled out his phone and called Bruce, who answered on the second ring. "Hey, Tony, what's up? Any news on your case?"

"No, probably not for awhile. But, that's kind of what I was calling about...so, Matt and Rhodey were saying they thought it would be a good idea if I got out of town for a little while? And I wondered if maybe I could stay with you for a few days?"

He heard Bruce pause. Tony hastily said, "If not, it's totally fine, I'll get a hotel somewhere, I understand." Pepper winced sympathetically.

Bruce said, "Oh, no, Tony, you're welcome to stay with me. I--I just--will anyone be looking for you? Will you be safe here? Do you need to stay somewhere more...secure?"

"No, it's not like that. It's just, you know, around here it's hard to go two feet without tripping over a paparazzo, and I've...been known to say things to them that I shouldn't say, which in this case could be bad for the investigation."

"Well. There's very little chance of that happening in my neck of the woods."

"I know. But, listen, I don't want to be a bother--"

"Tony, it's no bother. I'm happy to help you, if I can. I--I will warn you that my guest room isn't as nice as yours."

Tony laughed. "How ever will I manage?"

"Well--don't say I didn't warn you. When should I expect you?"

"Uh, well, now? Ish? If that's okay?"

"Of course."

"Thanks, Bruce, I appreciate it. I'll see you soon."

"You're welcome. Take care, Tony."

Tony set his phone on the table and took a sip of coffee. 

"You are so _gone_ for him, Tony."

"I'm not!"

"It's sweet, really. I've never seen you like this." Tony glared. Pepper grinned and said, "Okay, fine, whatever. I'll go pack a bag for you."

"Thank you."

"I'll make sure to pack only your most flattering clothes."

"Pepper! I don't own any unflattering clothes."

"Really? You're going to tell me that while wearing that thousand-year-old UCLA T-shirt?"

Tony crossed his arms over his chest. "It's vintage now."

"Mmm-hmm."

"Whatever. I'm going to pack up some stuff from my office."

"Don't forget a phone charger."

Tony rolled his eyes, despite knowing how often Pepper had saved his ass by packing an extra charger for him.

"Don't roll your eyes at me!"

"Sorry, Pepper, it was uncontrollable. It's a side-effect of how I was almost murdered."

"That doesn't even make sense!"

"Yeah, that's fair enough," Tony admitted. Bruce was probably right about Tony over-using that excuse. Tony quickly drank the rest of his coffee and put the mug and plate in the dishwasher. He packed his laptop and a few books he hoped to read in his messenger bag. He decided to add all the notes he'd made about potential Gamma Garcia movies, just in case Bruce wanted to talk about them. Then he got his suitcase and a hug from Pepper and headed out on the now-familiar route along Highway 1. He'd chosen a black Audi, one of his less-conspicuous cars, just in case, and no one seemed to be following him.

When he pulled into Bruce's driveway, he saw Bruce sitting on the porch with a book, with Veronica lying by his feet. Bruce hopped up and surprised Tony by silently holding his arms out. Tony accepted the offered hug.

When they stepped apart, Bruce said, "I'm glad you're okay."

"Aww, you're worried about me?"

"Well, yeah. You're pressing charges for attempted murder against two pretty powerful men."

"Point of fact: I'm not actually pressing charges yet, the matter is still under investigation."

"Still," Bruce muttered. "Why don't you come inside? I'll show you the guest room."

Tony dropped his bag in the guest room, which was small but cozy. It smelled like lavender and there appeared to be a handmade quilt on the bed. A few framed Ansel Adams prints hung on the walls. "Thanks, Bruce, I really appreciate this."

"Of course. It's not much, but it's yours for as long as you need it." 

"It's got a bed and no nosy neighbors. It's perfect."

Bruce shuffled his feet and said, "I'll, uh, leave you to get settled. I'm going to start making lunch."

Tony frowned at his watch. He supposed it _was_ nearing lunch time; he'd had a leisurely start to his day before the hour-ish drive up to Ojai. "You don't have to make anything on my account…"

"Well. Uh, actually, my cousin Jen is coming for lunch?"

"Oh, Bruce, why didn't you say something? I didn't mean to crash your party."

"No, no, it's good. I'm glad you're somewhere safe. And she's been asking to meet you. I, uh...yeah. I think it'll be...good." Bruce made a vague hand gesture and fled down the hallway.

Tony set his bags on the floor and gave himself a quick once-over in the mirror on the dresser. He looked decent. There were faint dark circles under his eyes, but they weren't terrible. Pepper had made him change out of the UCLA T-shirt and into a sleek black button-down, which he had to admit looked better. He would definitely make a better first impression on Jen than the one he'd made on Bruce back at Fresh Start. Cheered by that thought, he went down the hallway and found Bruce chopping vegetables at the kitchen counter.

"Can I help with anything?" Tony asked. "Anything easy, you know what my culinary skills are like."

Bruce smiled. "Keep me company, if that's not too hard?"

"I think I can manage that. What are you making?"

"Green Goddess salad. It's Jen's favorite."

"You and Jen seem close. I barely ever talk to my cousins." Tony had only spoken to Jen on the phone once, months ago, the first time Bruce had dissociated in Tony's presence. But Bruce mentioned her often, and it was clear that she played a big role in his life.

"Yeah, we...she's kinda more like a sister to me. I lived with her and my aunt and uncle after, um. After I was ten."

"What happened when you were ten?" Tony asked, terrified of the answer. In a letter, Bruce had briefly described his childhood as "abusive," but he'd never elaborated and Tony had been afraid to ask. 

There was a long pause, filled by the sound of the knife hitting the cutting board. "My father killed my mother," Bruce said quietly.

"Jesus Christ, Bruce. I-- _god_. I'm so sorry," Tony said. He'd known that Bruce's childhood had been bad, obviously, but not even Tony's active imagination had been up to the task of guessing those details.

"I--it's good that you know," Bruce said. "It's just difficult to talk about." He chopped vegetables with an alarming intensity. Veronica sat up at his feet, nudging his thigh with her nose.

"Of course," Tony said. "Take your time."

Bruce took a deep breath and said, "My father went to jail and died there a few years later, of liver failure. And I grew up with my aunt and uncle and Jen. So it's a happy ending for everyone. Except my mom." He swept the vegetables off his cutting board and into a bowl, then started viciously chopping a cucumber.

Tony stood up from the table. "Bruce? Could I give you a hug?"

Bruce nodded and leaned in, still holding the knife. "You're so brave, Bruce," Tony whispered. "You're so strong." 

Tony's parents had both died in a car accident; his father had been driving. Tony assumed Bruce already knew this; everyone knew it. It had been headline news for days as the world mourned the loss of a Hollywood Golden Age power couple. The investigation had ruled the other driver at fault, but Tony couldn't help but blame his father a little. He couldn't imagine how much worse it would have felt if his father had actually actively killed his mom.

Bruce shook his head against Tony's shoulder. "I'm really not," he mumbled. He stepped away and said, "I need to finish this salad."

"Would it be helpful if I told you a dumb story to distract you? Would you prefer silence? I'm...kind of guessing you don't want to talk about your feelings."

"Dumb story, please," Bruce requested with the ghost of a smile.

"Okay. Uh...so have I told you about the time Matthew McConaughey and I got pulled over on a stolen golf cart in Jamaica?"

Bruce's smile widened slightly. "No. Please do." 

Bruce started mixing a dressing as Tony launched into the story with all the dramatic flair he could muster, hoping to keep a smile on Bruce's face. He'd just gotten to the slow-motion collision with a bicycle cop when the front door opened and a remarkably tall woman let herself in.

"Brucie, you didn't tell me we were having company!" she called. She placed a bakery box on the counter and then stalked up to Tony, proffering a perfectly-manicured hand with a surprisingly strong grip. "I'm Jen Walters, and _you_ must be the famous Tony Stark."

"Guilty as charged," Tony said, with his most charming smile. "Sorry to invade your lunch date."

"It's a delightful surprise. I've been dying to meet you face to face. And I'm also dying to hear the end of that story I interrupted." She stepped back from Tony and pulled Bruce into a hug. She tousled his hair fondly, which made Tony feel a small, stupid stab of envy. He wanted to touch Bruce's fluffy curls. Bruce laughed and attempted to smooth his hair back into place.

Tony shoved down his attraction to Bruce and got his entertaining anecdote back on track. "Luckily, I believe the statute of limitations is up on this particular adventure, and so I can safely disclose that the story ends with McConaughey bribing a police officer, and both of us sleeping it off on some deck chairs at a resort that we were not staying at."

Jen laughed appreciatively, despite not having heard the beginning of the story. Bruce smiled weakly. Belatedly, Tony realized that a story about his drunken antics might not have been the _best_ choice to tell the son of an abusive alcoholic. God, he was so dumb. He racked his brain for a funny story to tell that didn't involve him being drunk, and came up dry. _Fuck_ , it was a good thing he'd gotten sober. Abruptly, he realized that Jen had asked him a question while he was lost in a thought spiral.

"Sorry, what was that?"

"I was just asking what brought you up to our neck of the woods today."

"Ah. Yeah. Sorry, I'm a little distracted, I, uh, just wanted a break from the paparazzi."

Bruce put a large bowl of salad in the middle of the table and said, "Tony's waiting for his attempted murderers to be brought to justice."

"Wait, what?" Jen asked.

"I, uh, yes, also, that," Tony agreed, with a sidelong glance at Bruce. He'd wanted to keep the discussion light, but apparently they were getting into it.

"Well, back up, when did someone try to kill you? Are you okay?" 

"Ah. Yes, I'm fine. But apparently the on-set accident I had in Morocco last year...was not so accidental."

"Damn," Jen said. Tony and Bruce caught Jen up to speed while they ate what Tony had to admit was a delicious salad. She listened attentively, and nodded approvingly when she heard Matt Murdock was on the case.

"Sounds like you're in good hands," she said.

"You think it's going to be okay?" Bruce asked anxiously. "What if they do something to Tony? You remember what Ross is like."

"I think Tony has a good team in place, and I think Tony's probably right about Stane and Ross's motives drying up. They sound like pretty smart guys, I don't think they're going to do anything else now, while attention is on them."

"I hope you're right," Bruce said, though he didn't sound convinced. Tony was touched by Bruce's concern, even if he didn't believe it was warranted. He wondered if Ross had done more to Bruce than Bruce had first let on.

When they'd finished eating and recounting legal drama, Jen said, "Bruce, why don't you take Veronica for a walk and Tony and I will clean up?"

"Oh, there's not much to clean up. I can just load the dishwasher."

"You got it fixed?" Jen asked, clearly surprised. Tony understood her reaction; on a recent visit, he'd learned that Bruce had let the dishwasher sit unused for weeks, too anxious to call a stranger to fix it.

"Uh, well, Tony fixed it, actually."

Jen turned to look at Tony, even more surprised now. " _Tony Stark_ fixed your dishwasher? Like, personally?"

Tony shrugged. "I'm a handy guy." 

"Clearly." Her tone now bossy, like an older sister, Jen said, "Anyway, Bruce, take V out, I want Tony to tell me how he fixed your dishwasher."

"Jen…"

"It's okay," Tony said. "I'm happy to help."

"Just be nice, Jen," Bruce said.

"I'm always nice!" Jen replied. 

Bruce gave them both one more lingering look before he took Veronica outside.

"You _do_ actually have to be nice to me, I was almost murdered," Tony said cheerfully. He scraped his plate into the compost bin and started loading the dishwasher.

Jen laughed, but her expression quickly grew serious. "Tony, I just wanted to...I don't know. I have to admit, I was nervous when Bruce started talking about you so much. No offense, but you have...a certain reputation."

"Oh, do I?" Tony asked breezily.

She sighed. "I'm sorry. It's just...you know, people have taken advantage of Bruce."

"I know, and I hate that." Tony understood Jen's desire to protect Bruce, but it stung him that she would think that Bruce needed protection from Tony. But was she right? Maybe Tony shouldn't have invited himself to stay with Bruce. Maybe he was being selfish in assuming that Bruce enjoyed Tony's company as much as Tony enjoyed Bruce's. And the legal drama had clearly upset Bruce more than Tony had anticipated.

Jen continued, "Bruce is just so...special, and he doesn't make friends...or connections...easily."

"I understand that, and I'm very happy he considers me a friend." To avoid Jen's piercing gaze, Tony busied himself with clearing the rest of the table.

"I guess I just wanted to make sure...well, look, it's not really my business whatever's going on with you two. But I just don't want Bruce to get hurt. He's already been through so much…"

"I don't want Bruce to get hurt either! I love him!" Tony blurted out. He’d never said that to or about anyone before, not in a romantic sense, but as the words escaped his mouth, he realized they were true. But he glanced around quickly to make sure Bruce hadn’t heard. Fortunately, he could see Bruce out the window, walking Veronica at a far edge of the yard, definitely out of earshot.

"What?" Jen looked at him with raised eyebrows.

Tony looked down and stammered, "I mean...I care about him. I--his friendship...is very important to me."

"Oh, god, I thought Bruce was exaggerating how adorable you are, but he really wasn't, huh?"

Tony took the bait, but tried to sound casual as he asked, "Bruce says I'm adorable?"

Jen grinned at him. "Well, someone told me that, it was either Bruce or _People_ magazine…" Tony made a pleading face at her, and she said, "Okay, it was both. So when are you going to make a move? You know Bruce won't, like, ever."

Tony licked his lips and said, "Look, I haven't told Bruce...I...he's a great friend and, uh, you're really not supposed to start any new...romantic relationships in your first year of sobriety, so, I, uh…please don’t mention this to him?" He trailed off and ran a damp sponge over the kitchen table. Maybe he didn’t really love Bruce? Maybe it was just the supppsed heightened emotions of early sobriety at play. But he just couldn’t imagine ever feeling any other way about Bruce.

Jen's expression softened. "Okay. I won't say anything to Bruce. I'm really glad to hear you're taking your sobriety seriously."

"I figure I missed out on joining the 27 Club so I might as well live to old age, you know?"

"That's a good plan." Jen put a hand on her hip, surveyed the clean table, and said, "Wow, that was quick. Thanks for fixing the dishwasher."

"No problem."

"You know, mine's been acting up too, do you do house calls? I can pay you with more stories about Bruce."

"Sure, you have my number."

Jen threw her arm around his shoulder. "You're alright, Tony Stark."

"Yeah, I think I read that in _People_ magazine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re past the halfway point on this story now! I’m traveling for the holidays & won’t update again until after Christmas, so happy holidays to all of you and thanks so much to everyone reading this, especially those of you who take the time to share your comments! I truly appreciate each and every one of you ♥_♥


	13. Nothing Good Starts In a Getaway Car

Foul Play Suspected in Tony Stark's On Set Accident

LOS ANGELES--Last year, writer-director Tony Stark was gravely injured in a fall on the set of the film _World War Zero_ in Morocco. At the time, the fall was ruled an accident. However, new evidence has come to light, including allegations that the insurance investigator had accepted a bribe to falsify their reports. The FBI has opened an investigation. 

Tony Stark, who grew up in the public eye thanks to his actor parents Howard and Maria Stark, had some infamous public displays of drunkenness in his younger days, and recently completed a course of rehab for substance abuse. However, publicly released toxicology reports indicate that Stark was sober at the time of his fall.

Stark's publicist James Rhodes issued this statement: "We are shocked at these recent revelations and appreciate the hard work of law enforcement and our legal team. We know the investigation will be difficult as so much time has passed and the set has been dismantled, but we are hopeful that we can get some answers about what really happened on the set of _World War Zero_. Tony has made a lot of progress in recovering from his fall, but he was quite gravely injured and the thought that these injuries may have been intentionally caused is horrific."

* * *

"Did you sleep alright?" Bruce asked.

"Yeah, pretty well," Tony lied. He knew Bruce was worried that his guest room wasn't nice enough, but that wasn't the problem. The problem was Tony's nightmares, which had endured for the last few weeks, wherever he slept.

Bruce eyed him skeptically before offering, "I usually do yoga before breakfast. You can start making coffee in the kitchen if you want...or you could join me?"

"Yeah, sure. I haven't done yoga since I left rehab."

"It might help with...um, I noticed you were limping a little more than you had been."

"Oh. Yeah, I guess I've been a little tense lately...I can definitely feel it in my back." Tony thought he’d been hiding the limp pretty well, but he’d forgotten how observant Bruce was.

"I can't imagine why you'd be tense," Bruce said drily. "But, good! I have an extra mat you can use. Just come meet me in the living room when you're ready."

Tony looked down at the gray sweatpants and T-shirt he'd slept in and then up at Bruce's fitted yoga pants and tank. "I don't think I have anything better to change into." As promised, Pepper had packed him flattering daywear, but nothing athletic to speak of. He couldn’t blame her; he hadn’t been doing much physical activity beyond his painstaking treadmill jaunts.

"Oh, of course. What you're wearing is fine, I didn't mean...um, let's go get started."

Bruce spread out two yoga mats on the bright hardwood floors and started quietly guiding Tony through some poses. Tony couldn't help but be impressed by Bruce's flexibility--and his well-defined ass--but mostly the activity served to highlight how much recovery Tony still had left to do. Day to day, he got around much better than he had immediately after his fall, but his joints were still stiff and his range of motion was limited.

After several minutes of struggling, Bruce cleared his throat and shyly asked, "Tony, would you mind if I gave you some assists?"

"Oh god, is this a Scientology thing?"

Bruce laughed. "No. Not that kind of assist. Just a little bit of hands-on assistance to help you get deeper into some of these poses? Um, just things some of my yoga teachers had done for me in the past. But it's fine if you don't want it."

"Oh. Um, sure, lay hands upon me."

"Okay. Why don't you get into child's pose?"

Tony did, and then bit back a gasp as Bruce applied firm, gentle pressure to his back, gradually forcing him to slide forward on the mat; farther forward than he'd thought he was capable of bending. 

"Is this okay? Let me know if it hurts."

"It feels great," Tony mumbled into the mat. Bruce carefully guided Tony through some more poses and then left him lying on his back in rest. He knew Bruce had just been acting as a kind, competent friend but he couldn't deny that he'd enjoyed having Bruce's hands on him, and not just because of the immediate relief he felt in his back muscles.

"Take your time getting back up," Bruce said. "I'll be in the kitchen when you're ready."

"Thanks. God, Bruce, you're a miracle worker. I feel better already." 

"I know a little bit about pain," Bruce replied quietly.

Tony stretched his arms out over his head and heard something pop, but it felt good. He felt more relaxed than he had in a long time. When he finally scraped himself off the mat, Bruce had changed clothes and had a French press of coffee ready and an elaborate fruit salad.

"Wow," Tony said.

Bruce smiled and shook his head. "It's nothing fancy."

"I really don't want you to go to any trouble on my account."

"It's no trouble."

"I really do appreciate all of this."

"Of course. I'm happy to help, any way I can."

After they finished breakfast, Tony loaded the dishwasher and said, "I guess I'm not sure what your usual routine is when I'm not bothering you, but I can stay out of your hair."

"Oh--you're really not a bother. I'm just not used to having company. But--but it's nice." Bruce gave Tony a small smile.

"Still, look, whatever you'd be doing if I weren't here, you should do that."

"Okay. Well, I usually check on my garden, and then spend the rest of the morning writing."

Tony smiled, and Bruce said, "What?"

"Nothing, it's just--just really...wholesome."

"I find having a routine really helpful."

"Of course. Sorry, I didn't mean to sound like a dick."

"Oh--you didn't. But I just mean, I know my life isn't very exciting. At least, it wasn't until I met you and got dragged into an episode of Law & Order."

Tony laughed. "I hope it's Law & Order. That means they'll catch the bad guys. Even though there hasn’t been a murder."

"Not yet." Bruce's tone was joking, but his face was creased with worry.

"That's only because I'm too stubborn to die."

"You'd better be."

Despite the jokes, Bruce still looked worried, and Tony felt guilty. He really thought Bruce was overreacting to the whole situation; but perhaps Tony had been too eager for an opportunity to seek Bruce's hospitality and he'd misrepresented the gravity of his situation. Tony cleared his throat and said, "Anyway, you were heading out to play Peter Rabbit? Shall I join you?"

"Mr. McGregor."

"Hmm?"

"Mr. McGregor was the gardener. Peter Rabbit is the, uh, anti-gardener."

"Ah, I see. In that case, you be Mr. McGregor, and I'll be Peter Rabbit."

Bruce smiled. "You can have as many carrots as you like."

Bruce seemed to take pride in showing his garden to Tony--the elaborate reclaimed water irrigation system, the carefully chosen companion plants that apparently nurtured each other, like tomatoes and cabbage. And Tony did admire it, even after half an hour spent weeding made his back ache. Maybe Bruce realized his garden was already fairly weed-free, or maybe he noticed Tony wincing, but abruptly, he said, "I think we're set out here for the moment. You can have the shower first, if you want."

"Oh. Thanks, I'll try to be quick." Tony had forgotten that Bruce's adorable house only had one bathroom. As soon as the hot water hit his back, that information left his brain. The hot water felt great on his aching muscles, and he started mentally chasing an idea for a script. He'd always had some of his best ideas in the shower. Eventually, the water started feeling a little cooler on his back and he realized what he'd done. He hurried out of the bathroom after applying only limited product to his hair. 

He found Bruce and Veronica lounging on the porch. Bruce had another cup of tea and a newspaper. He peered up at Tony over his reading glasses and smiled. "Hey, Tony."

Tony made a pleading expression as he said, "Bruce, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to use all your hot water, I just spaced out...ugh, I'm such an asshole." 

Bruce laughed. "Oh, no, I should have warned you. The house's primary water water is solar, which...has its limitations. There's a backup traditional water heater that should kick in after a minute, but it can be a rough transition."

"Oh," Tony said with relief.

"Do you want a section of the paper?" Bruce asked, holding up the Los Angeles Times.

"Uh...yeah, can I have Entertainment?"

Bruce passed it over and they read together quietly. It was pleasantly warm out, and Tony felt peaceful. Out of habit, he checked his phone a few times. He had enough of a data signal to determine that he wasn't missing anything important.

Eventually, Bruce excused himself to shower. When he returned, he had his laptop and he settled back in with Veronica, typing away.

Tony couldn't bear the curiosity. "What are you working on?"

Bruce glanced at him sidelong. "It's, um. It's a fantasy novel I've been working on."

"Could you tell me what it's about?"

"It's about a hobgoblin."

"And?"

Reluctantly, Bruce explained, "A hobgoblin who gets adopted by a family of brownies."

"Like the Girl Scouts?"

Bruce cracked a smile. "Like the helpful fairies of Scottish myth. Hobgoblins are mischievous and destructive; brownies sneak into your house at night and sweep up the mess." 

"Oh wow."

"I know it sounds silly," Bruce said apologetically.

"I don't think it sounds silly. Or...well, look, when Pepper first gave me the Gamma Garcia books, I did think they sounded silly, because I'm kind of an asshole and I thought they were just for kids. But then...obviously, I loved them. So I have to assume that whatever you're writing about the hobgoblin is also something that's funny and moving and inspiring."

Bruce looked back down at his laptop. There was a faint smile on his lips and a light flush on his cheeks. Tony very badly wanted to kiss him. But he shoved that thought away and asked, "Would you ever write something for adults?"

"Adults can read my books if they want. I'm not stopping them."

"I know. I just mean...well, I'm just curious about your process."

"I guess...I just write things that I would have wanted to read when I was a kid."

"Aw." Tony felt such a surge of emotions, protective and sad and angry, whenever he thought about Bruce's shitty childhood. He couldn't imagine anyone ever wanting to hurt Bruce, who was so gentle and brilliant. He hesitated before asking, "But don't you want to publish this stuff so other kids can read it now? I know--I know you said you didn't want any more public attention, but you could always put it out under a pseudonym?"

"I don't know. I don't know if anyone else would get anything out of this stuff...it might just be years of self-therapy exercises."

"I doubt it. Your books--the published ones--mean a lot to a _lot_ of people."

Bruce looked doubtful. "But these are different."

"I'd be happy to provide more specific reassurance if you'd let me read something else you wrote."

"Let me think about it, okay? It's just--it's just once you've read them, you can't un-read them, you know?"

"Yeah, I get it," Tony said, trying to hide his disappointment. "I'm going to get my laptop so I can torment myself instead of you."

They worked together side by side until lunch, with Tony trying his level best not to annoy Bruce. This became their routine, as the days stretched on without any word from Matt about Tony's case. Staying with Bruce reminded Tony of being in rehab, but in a good way. It was quiet and structured, but he felt like he was actually being productive instead of just lying around moaning. (He could hear Sam's voice in his head reminding him that doing the emotional work of recovery was still work, and important work at that. Tony supposed that was true, but it didn't have the tangible feel of success that words in his Scrivener document did.)

When Tony had first learned how Bruce lived--alone, in the middle of nowhere with no TV and no internet--he'd felt sorry for his friend. He'd assumed that Bruce must have been bored all the time, which would explain why Bruce always accepted Tony's invitations for meals and movie watching. But as he came to understand Bruce's life, he realized that Bruce really was as self-sufficient as a Martian colonist. He envied Bruce's inner strength; Tony knew he could never live such an isolated life.

At breakfast one morning, after Tony had spent a week in Ojai, Bruce cleared his throat nervously. Tony felt an abrupt fear in his stomach--he'd overstayed his welcome and Bruce was awkwardly trying to figure out how to ask him to leave.

But Bruce said, "Hey, Tony, I have an appointment this morning. Are you going to be okay on your own? I--I could cancel it, if you want."

Tony exhaled. "Yes, of course, I'll be fine. Please don't cancel anything on my account."

Bruce didn't look completely convinced, but he said, "Okay. Well, I'll come back right after, and I'll have my phone if you need anything."

As ever, Tony was touched by Bruce's concern, but it also made him feel guilty. "Really, it's fine, don't rush on my account."

Bruce gave Tony an unprompted hug before he left. Tony smiled to himself as he settled on the couch and tried to work on his stupid script. Although he truly did appreciate the calm of Bruce’s home, he couldn’t wait until he could return to the organized chaos of a film set. But first he was going to have to write a film. Write a film, not read his email, he reminded himself, although it was definitely easier to stay on track at Bruce’s WiFi-free home. But eventually, he caved and checked his phone.

He whispered "Yikes" aloud when he saw how many missed calls, voicemails, and texts he'd accumulated since breakfast. He scrolled through them, enough to understand the gist of what was going on, and rushed to pack up his essentials and get back to LA. Tony thought about calling Bruce, but he was sure that Bruce would want to accompany him, and he didn't want to put Bruce through any more stress than he already had. He scrawled a quick note, stuck it to the fridge with a magnet, and made sure the security gate closed behind him after he left.


	14. The Rumors Are Terrible and Cruel (But Honey, Most Of Them Are True)

Bruce,

I'm so sorry, something came up and I had to head back home. (Don't worry, I'm fine!) Thank you so much for letting me crash here. You're the best. 

Tony

* * *

Explosion At Tony Stark's Estate Injures 1

MALIBU--Police are investigating the cause of an explosion that occurred in writer-director Tony Stark's garage. Stark's driver, Harold "Happy" Hogan was rushed to Cedars-Sinai Medical Center and is in critical condition. The explosion also damaged several of Stark's famed car collection. Stark was not home at the time of the incident. Stark's publicist, James Rhodes, released this statement: "We're all shocked and confused about what could have happened, and we appreciate LAPD's investigative efforts. Tony is very concerned about Happy and hopeful for his recovery."

* * *

A nurse chirped, "Good morning, Mr. Stark, Ms. Potts!" 

Tony blinked awake and winced. He'd spent the night sitting by Happy's bedside, drifting in and out (mostly out) of sleep, and his neck was protesting. But he was still in better shape than Happy. "How is he?"

"He's hanging in there," the nurse said. "I'm sure he's glad to have your support, even if he can't show it just yet. But I need to ask you two to head out for the next hour, while we have our shift report here in the ICU. You can stay in the waiting room, or head to the cafeteria, maybe get some coffee?"

"But you'll let us know if anything changes?" Tony asked.

Kindly, the nurse said, "Sure, honey, if anything changes in the next hour, we'll let you know. But remember, progress will be slow."

"Thank you, Anita, we appreciate it," Pepper said. "C'mon, Tony."

Tony reluctantly followed Pepper out to the waiting room, where he was startled to see Bruce, sitting calmly and reading a newspaper. Veronica sat alertly by his side, wearing a bright purple service dog vest. Tony had never seen her in the vest before, but then, he supposed he'd never seen Veronica in a public place before.

"Bruce?" Tony asked warily.

Bruce looked up and shook his head no. "Bruce read about your friend in the newspaper and was _very_ worried." His tone was sharply scolding, in a way that Bruce never was, even when Tony deserved it. He looked at Tony with a coolly analytical gaze, as if Tony were a slide under a microscope. A slide of some sort of bacteria or fungus.

"I'm sorry. I didn't...I didn't want to worry him," Tony said, realizing the contradiction as he said it. "You must be, um, the Professor? I don't think we've...met."

Bruce nodded once. "Bruce was too upset to drive. I'm a bit less emotional than he is. And more logical, you know."

"Right. Well…"

Pepper cleared her throat and said, "I'm going to the cafeteria. I'll bring you back a coffee...um, would you like anything?" She glanced at Bruce, unsure how to address him. She'd gotten a crash course on Bruce's DID but hadn't interacted directly with any of his alters yet.

"No, thank you," Bruce said.

"Okay. Well...thank you for coming."

Bruce shrugged and said, "I'm aware that my presence is technically superfluous since only two visitors are permitted at a time in the ICU, but Bruce was very insistent on coming."

"It isn't superfluous. It means a lot to me, and I'm sure it means a lot to Tony, too. And Happy will appreciate it too, as soon as he wakes up," Pepper said firmly. She squeezed Tony's shoulder before leaving the waiting room.

"She's right. It--it does mean a lot to me," Tony said. He wasn't sure what to make of this one of Bruce's alters. He seemed much more...aware than the other two Tony had met. Certainly more willing--more able?--to talk about Bruce.

"Bruce was worried when you didn't answer your phone."

"My--ah, shit, I forgot to bring a charger." Tony had assumed he'd hear about any important updates from Pepper, but of course Bruce wouldn't have called Pepper.

Bruce said flatly, "Yes, I figured. You left it in the guest room. You're very careless." He opened his tote bag and pulled out a phone charger. Tony took it and plugged in his phone next to the vending machine. 

"Thanks. But so you knew why I wasn't answering."

Bruce clarified, " _Bruce_ was worried, but I assumed the solution was simply your forgotten charger and nothing more sinister."

"Right." Tony had felt guilty about Bruce's concern, and he knew that the Professor was technically correct, but he missed Bruce's awkward, sincere kindness. He bit his lip, hoping he wasn't about to make a faux pas. "Hey, uh, Professor?"

"Yes?"

"You seem...more astute than Bruce's other alters."

"Keenly observed," Bruce said drily.

"How much control do you have?"

"I'm not sure what you're asking. I do my best to help Bruce accomplish his goals."

"Right, and I can tell you do a great job of that."

"Please don't condescend to me. I'm not a child."

"No, of course not, I'm sorry."

"I accept your apology," Bruce said primly.

Tony scrubbed his hand over his face. He was tired, he was sore, he was desperately worried about Happy, and he missed Bruce. He figured he had nothing to lose by just coming out and asking. "So, Professor, I really appreciate everything you did to help bring Bruce here, and I'm not sure if it works this way, and I don't mean to offend you, but I was just wondering if I could talk to Bruce?"

Bruce gave Tony a long, calculating look.

Tony said, "It's just that I've had a really long day and I would really like to talk to Bruce, if I could."

Bruce said, "Well, I'm certain Bruce would enjoy talking to you more than I'm enjoying it."

Tony winced. "Sorry."

"Please be kind to Bruce," Bruce said. "He cares about you." Then he blinked and shook his head and said, "Oh my god, Tony?" He stood up from the uncomfortable plastic chair and threw his arms around Tony.

Tony smiled and relaxed. He gently rubbed his hand in a circle around Bruce's back. "It's really good to see you."

Finally, Bruce pulled back from Tony and said, "I'm so glad you're okay. I can't believe you didn't tell me what happened to Happy!" His tone was scolding, but in an exasperated, worried way. 

"I'm sorry. I just didn't want you to worry. I...I didn't think about how it would end up in the paper," Tony admitted sheepishly. He was used to _his_ every move ending up in print, but it hadn't occurred to him that Happy's injury would get the same treatment. In retrospect, it was obviously the type of crime that was newsworthy regardless of the victim's Q Score, and he felt like a real asshole for not thinking of that.

"Your note said ' _something came up_.'"

"Technically....true?"

Bruce shook his head. "I just know Ross is behind this somehow. He won't stop at anything until he gets his way."

"Well...it was definitely somebody. In my experience, cars don't just explode on their own."

"What happened?"

Tony licked his lips and looked at his hands. Bruce said, "Tony, please just tell me. Don't make me read the details in tomorrow's newspaper."

"It's just...Happy was doing some routine maintenance on some of the cars, no big deal, but then, I guess, when he started up the Porsche, it...uh...exploded."

Bruce was silent for a moment, and Tony hoped that Bruce didn't know enough about cars to put it together. What he’d told Bruce was true; maybe he wasn’t spelling everything out, but he wasn’t lying.

But Bruce said, "Isn't the Porsche the one you usually drive? The convertible?"

Tony nodded reluctantly. "I...I only took the Audi when I left last week because I was trying to be a little bit lower profile...with everything that was going on. It...it should have been me. It's my fault Happy's hurt."

Bruce shook his head. "No way. It's not your fault. It's Ross's fault. Or...or whoever planted the bomb."

"I guess."

Bruce pursed his lips and gave Tony a long look. Then he pulled one of the chairs away from the wall and said, "Why don't you sit down?"

Tony had been awkwardly standing near the door to the waiting room since he'd entered and seen Bruce sitting there. Bruce--Original Flavor Bruce--had stood to hug him, and they'd both been standing since. "Yeah, okay," Tony said. He had a second to wonder why Bruce had moved the chair, and then he felt Bruce's hands on his shoulders. "Ohh," Tony moaned, hoping it didn't sound too sexual.

Bruce laughed softly. "I knew you'd be tense after a night in the hospital but I figured you wouldn't want to do yoga on the hospital floor."

"God, you're the best, Bruce," Tony mumbled. He closed his eyes.

When he opened them, Bruce and Rhodey were sitting across from him in the waiting room. Tony blinked and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He realized he'd fallen asleep again, and had slightly drooled on himself.

"Sorry," Bruce said. "I thought I should let you sleep?"

"Hey Sleeping Beauty," Rhodey said. "How are you holding up?"

"Fine," Tony said, aware that he probably didn't sound convincing.

"Then you won't mind if I drank the coffee Pepper brought back for you?"

"Noo!"

"I can go get some more," Bruce offered. 

"Oh, you don't have--" Tony started to say, but Rhodey cut him off and said, "Thanks, Bruce, Tony would appreciate it."

Bruce nodded and squeezed Tony's shoulder as he walked past him on his way out.

Tony sighed. "Any updates on Happy?"

"You were out for like twenty minutes, so no, no change."

"What about from the police? Anything good from the garage's security cameras?"

Rhodey shook his head. "Sorry, man. But it's still been less than 24 hours."

"Right."

"Tony, you _do_ know this isn't your fault?"

Tony shrugged. 

"Hey, come here," Rhodey said, patting the plastic chair next to him.

Tony obeyed, and Rhodey put an arm around him, as best as the chair allowed. Tony leaned awkwardly against Rhodey's shoulder and said, "He's going to be okay, right?"

"He's going to be okay," Rhodey said. "I mean, he's already in better shape than you were last year. Not that that's saying much."

Bruce came back with a paper cup and a muffin. He froze in the doorway, looking at Tony and Rhodey.

"Coffee! My hero!" Tony said, waving him over.

Bruce handed him the coffee and muffin and said, shyly, "I'm just going to go walk around for a bit."

Rhodey said, "Tony, why don't you take a walk too? These waiting room chairs are murder. And I can keep Pepper company in the ICU."

"That's probably a good idea," Tony admitted. He stretched out his arms and stood. "You'll page me if there's any news?"

"Of course." Rhodey stood too. He hugged Tony and nodded at Bruce before heading into the ICU.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt anything," Bruce said. "I...I hated to think of you alone at the hospital, but of course I should have realized you weren't alone."

"Bruce, of course you didn't interrupt. And I'm glad you came, and not just because of this." Tony waved the cup in Bruce's direction before he took a long, grateful sip. He devoured the muffin in a few large bites, hungrier than he'd realized.

"We don't have to take a walk. Or we can go to the cafeteria if you're still hungry? I just said I'd take a walk because I thought you and Rhodey might want some privacy?"

"Nah, he didn't really have any updates. Even if he did, it would have just saved me from repeating things to you later." Tony grinned.

"I don't mean to pry, and I know I shouldn't have come here uninvited, I just...I was just worried."

"You're not prying. You're being a good friend. I'm sorry if I...I'm sorry if I haven't been."

Bruce twisted his hands together anxiously and haltingly explained, "It's just...Jen has always protected me, tries to keep me from hearing bad news...and I know she does it because she loves me. And it's true that I...that I try to be careful about my triggers. But I'm not...I mean, I can handle hearing things. And anyway, it's not the end of the world if I shift to an alter. I don't need to be protected from everything. I...I want to be informed. I want to know what's happening in your life."

Tony nodded. "Okay. I'm sorry, Bruce. Let's take a walk." Clutching his coffee with his right hand, he stood and offered Bruce his left hand. Bruce shifted Veronica's leash and gripped Tony's hand tightly as they walked down the hallway.

They were still holding hands when they completed their aimless lap around the hospital. Tony did feel better, both from counteracting the hours spent in an uncomfortable chair and from the reassuring pressure of Bruce's hand. As they re-entered the waiting room, Bruce froze and abruptly dropped Tony's hand. Veronica whined and nudged Bruce's legs. Tony glanced at them, and then into the waiting room, where a severe-faced, silver-haired (and silver-mustached) man sat, casually scrolling through his phone. It had been a long time since Tony had seen the man, aside from a shaky, out-of-focus video, and it took him an extra moment to place Thaddeus Ross's face out of context. As soon as he recognized the intruder, Tony stepped in front of Bruce protectively.

Ross looked up and gave them a syrupy smile. "Tony. So sorry to hear about what happened to Mr. Hogan. It was really unnecessary."

"You're not welcome here," Tony said firmly.

"I just came to express my condolences. And my wishes that nothing else happens to you or your...associates."

"Get out of here."

"Why do you have to do everything the hard way, Tony? It was so easy to make Stane see sense. And Bruce, too, for that matter. But you...well, look, Tony, you've been lucky so far. And if you and your sightless lawyer call off this ridiculous investigation, maybe your luck will hold."

"You came to the _hospital_ to _threaten me_?" Tony asked. He'd honestly thought that Bruce had been overreacting to Ross--of course he seemed like an asshole, but Tony hadn't been convinced that Ross was capable of such outright violence. But apparently he'd been underestimating the lengths Ross was willing to go to to protect his schemes.

"No, no, like I said, just to express my condolences." His eyes flicked over Tony's shoulder, to Bruce. "And maybe a warning about the kind of company you're keeping. You hang out with psychos, who knows what they might do."

"I'm getting security," Tony said. He turned back to grab Bruce's hand and realized that, tucked behind Tony's body, Bruce had his phone out and was recording the exchange. Tony moved past Bruce's hand and placed a hand on Bruce's shoulder, gently turning him and pushing him out of the room without revealing the phone. He could feel Bruce's shoulders shivering under his hand.

"Oh, there's no need for all that, I'm on my way out anyway. I have work to do. And I know where to find you if we need to have another chat."

Ross stalked past them. Tony waited until Ross was out of sight before pulling Bruce into a hug. "I'm so sorry," he said. "But you were so smart and so brave."

Bruce handed him the phone with a shaky hand and said, "Tony, I--I...can't."

"What?" Tony asked, fearful of what Bruce might mean. Was he going to leave? But then he looked at Bruce's face and realized he'd just shifted to his Shy Guy alter. "Okay," Tony said soothingly. "That's okay, buddy, we don't have to talk right now. Why don't we just sit down?"

Bruce sat down on the floor with his legs straight in front of him and his head leaned back on one of the plastic chairs. Veronica hopped up on his lap.

"Oh. Okay." Tony had meant on a chair, but he could work with this. He grabbed his phone from where he'd left it by the vending machine. Then he sat down next to Bruce, fighting back his disgust at the waiting room floor (which really did look fairly clean, for the circumstances.) Bruce turned and burrowed his face into Tony's chest, slightly displacing Veronica. It didn't look like a particularly comfortable position, but then, Bruce did a lot of yoga.

"You did such a good job, it's okay to rest now," Tony murmured. He gently stroked Bruce's back with one hand. With the other, he sent himself the video from Bruce's phone. He backed it up to the cloud and sent it to Matt, Pepper, and Rhodey, just to make sure it would be preserved. 

Tony realized that Bruce hadn’t shifted to an alter at all over the last week spent peacefully at home, and now he’d done it twice in one morning. He felt guilty, even though Bruce had told him in no uncertain terms that he’d rather not be protected from the truth. He hoped he could at least console Bruce now. Tony let his hand move up from Bruce’s back and stroked Bruce’s hair, which was just as fluffy as Tony had thought it would be. Bruce let out a small sigh and pressed himself more tightly against Tony. 

“This is okay? You like this?” Tony asked softly. Bruce nodded under his hand. Tony smiled and kept petting Bruce’s soft hair. It finally clicked for him how Bruce’s alters all worked to protect and help him. The Professor seemed like the most concretely useful of them, but Tony knew that Original Flavor Bruce would have struggled to seek this kind of physical reassurance from Tony, even though Tony was happy to give it. Even Hulk gave reserved Bruce a chance to let off some steam, although Tony still hoped he wouldn’t make an appearance at the hospital. 

As the adrenaline left his body, Tony typed out another quick message to Pepper. Then he leaned back against the chairs and drifted off into a hazy light sleep, feeling Bruce's warm weight against his chest. He didn’t know what would happen next, but he knew he was lucky to have a friend like Bruce by his side for whatever was coming.


	15. I Don't Want You Like a Best Friend

Hey gang,

I'm just attaching this video so you all have it, just in case. But please don't send it to the police or make it public until I've had a chance to confirm with Bruce that it's okay.

Thanks,

Tony

* * *

Tony,

What do you mean, don't send it to the police? This audio is pretty damning. I am doing my best to protect you and you are making it so difficult. 

Matt

PS How's Happy doing?

* * *

Pepper,

Can you please arrange for some private security to check out Bruce's house? And, I guess, a hotel room for Bruce? I'm such an asshole, he worked so hard to make a safe place for himself and now I'm afraid I've ruined it for him.

Thanks. For everything.

T

* * *

Tony,

Of course. It's all taken care of. I'll forward you details.

Pepper

PS You know none of this is your fault, right?

* * *

Tony stirred. His instinct was to stretch, but he didn't want to disturb Bruce, who was still curled against him. He looked up and saw Pepper sitting across from them on one of the plastic chairs. Her phone was on her lap, but she was watching Tony and Bruce with her hand over her mouth and a soft look in her eyes. Tony glanced down and determined that Bruce was awake, but still mentally checked out.

"Hey, Pep," he said softly. "How's Happy?"

"Okay. No change. How are you guys?"

"Hanging in there," Tony said. Bruce turned and signed something. "He says he's okay too," Tony translated.

Pepper smiled. "I'm glad. But why don't you two get out of here for awhile?" Tony opened his mouth to protest, and Pepper continued, "I already booked a hotel room. I'm sure you'd both be more comfortable. You need to take care of yourself, Tony. You both do."

Tony looked down at Bruce. Pepper was right; Tony should at least take care of Bruce, who'd been confronted by a living nightmare from his past here in this waiting room. He didn't think Bruce should stay here, nor did he think Bruce should be alone. "Okay," he agreed. "But what about you? You've been here all night, too."

"Nat is coming to pick me up. Rhodey and Carol are with Happy, and Anna and Jarvis are coming in the afternoon."

"And--"

"And someone will let you know as soon as anything changes. As long as you keep your phone charged."

"What do you think, buddy? You want to get out of here?" Tony asked.

Bruce signed "yes" and then grabbed Tony's hand.

"Okay," Tony said softly. "Thanks, Pepper."

"All in a day's work. Take care, you two."

Tony stood and helped Bruce to his feet. He put an arm around Bruce's shoulders and guided him out to Tony's car. The hotel Pepper had booked for Bruce was nearby. He left the car with the valet and checked in without incident; Veronica's service vest undoubtedly saved them some hassle.

The room was decently sized, with a king-sized bed and a separate area area with a couch, table, and television. And a mini-bar.

Bruce and Veronica settled quietly on the couch. Tony sat next to them and stared at the mini-bar. Surely it wouldn't hurt anything if he had just one drink? He deserved it, after the day--days--he'd had. And anyway, his problem wasn't _really_ with alcohol. It was the pills that had been the problem. And those wouldn’t be stocked here, of course. Probably just wine and beer. Or maybe some of those teeny-tiny bottles of liquor? 

He glanced at Bruce, who looked worried. But that wasn’t unusual for him. Tony asked, "You want anything to drink? Eat?" 

Bruce signed for water, and Tony opened the mini-bar and took out two bottles of water. He maybe held the door open too long, staring at the other options. There was a little bottle of Jack, which wasn't his preferred brand, but...maybe if he could just add it to some coffee it would be decent. He could practically taste the sweet burn of it already. 

But first he had to give Bruce his water. When he returned to the couch, he could immediately tell Original Flavor Bruce was back.

"Oh! Welcome back, Bruce. You, uh, still thirsty?"

"Thanks," Bruce said. He took the water and gave Tony a worried look. Tony forced a smile, although he suspected he'd been caught. He knew he couldn't drink in front of Bruce, but he'd thought maybe his alter wouldn't notice...what was Tony thinking? He couldn't drink, period. Well, he could drink this delicious water, at least.

Tony raised his own bottle of water and said, "Cheers."

"What are we toasting to?"

"Your fast thinking at the hospital."

Bruce smiled shyly and tapped his water bottle to Tony's.

"You okay?" Tony asked.

"Mm-hmm."

"Okay, well...maybe this isn't the best time to bring this up, but it's kind of time sensitive, so...what do you want me to do with the video you took? Of...of Ross?"

"Send it to the police, of course! You haven't already sent it?"

"I just...I wasn't sure if you'd want to...potentially expose yourself that way. I mean, not that you're in the video, but…"

Bruce nodded. "Tony...I've spent years hiding from Ross. And now he's...now he just thinks he can get away with everything! I'm sick of it! Please, send the video."

"Okay. If you're sure."

"I...I'm sure."

Tony squeezed Bruce's hand before pulling out his phone and sending a quick email to the ever put-upon Matt Murdock. "Uh, just so you know, I had some private security sent to your home. Just...just in case. Since Ross saw you with me, and I really don't know what he might try to do. I'm so, so sorry for getting you involved with all of this."

Bruce shook his head. "Tony, it's not your fault. But thank you for thinking of that. I...I assume there's security at your house, too?"

"My house is currently a crime scene under investigation, so I think it's pretty well covered."

"Right. I'm just glad you're okay." Bruce took a deep breath before asking, "Do you need to get back to the hospital or anything?"

"No. Pepper sent me away. Happy's being looked out for." Tony studied Bruce's tired face and said, "I actually was thinking about taking a shower, followed by a nap? An actual horizontal nap?"

Bruce smiled. "You should do that."

"I can get another room if you'd rather have some space? If you'd like to sleep too?"

"No. Please stay. It's...it's a big room. With a big bed."

Tony smiled back. "Okay."

He took a quick (for him) shower, enjoying the warm water and happily scrubbing away the hospital. He dressed in sweatpants and a T-shirt that he'd been wearing for yoga with Bruce. Finally, he pulled back the fluffy comforter and flopped down on the bed. The mattress was soft but supportive, the pillows felt like clouds, and it was all a thousand percent better than sleeping sitting up in a chair, especially when Bruce settled in next to him, with Veronica at their feet.

Upon waking up, he felt refreshed. He stretched and heard something pop in his neck.

Bruce, sitting up beside him with his laptop, said, "How do you feel?"

"Way better, thanks." He sat up and did a few lazy neck circles. He checked his phone and saw that he'd been out for a few hours, longer than any of his restless hospital naps had lasted. He had some messages from his friends, assuring him that things were fine. "I'm kind of hungry, though. You wanna get some room service?"

"Sure."

Bruce returned to his laptop, typing away while they waited for the random array of food Tony had ordered. Tony snuck glances at Bruce, who looked so intently focused on his work. He was typing slowly, with long pauses between words, but he had a look of fierce concentration on his face.

"How are the goblins?" Tony asked.

"Hmm? Oh, no, I'm working on something else," Bruce answered vaguely.

Tony resisted the urge to pry. He was still dying to read Bruce's new work, but knew he should give Bruce space to decide when, if ever, he wanted to share. Luckily, the food arrived and gave Tony a welcome distraction. He tipped the room service guy extra for the bored expression he greeted Tony with, and then settled on the couch with a plate of fries and chicken fingers.

"You want any of this?" Tony asked. Bruce had declined picking any specific menu item, but Tony had ordered some things he knew Bruce would like. 

"Maybe in a bit."

"I got vegetables for you!"

" _You_ should eat the vegetables," Bruce said, with a fondly exasperated tone.

Tony picked a carrot off a crudite plate and ate it with exaggeratedly loud bites. Bruce shook his head and kept typing. Finally, Tony asked, "You mind if I turn on the TV?"

"Go ahead."

He flipped through channels. He paused for a moment on one of the Fast and Furiouses, but decided to keep looking for something with fewer exploding cars. He settled on _Monty Python and the Holy Grail,_ figuring they could use some laughs. But Tony couldn't stop thinking about Happy, and Bruce stayed glued to his laptop throughout the movie. 

Eventually, Tony put the leftovers in the fridge. He noticed that all the alcohol was gone from the mini-bar, and was touched and a little annoyed that Bruce had apparently gotten rid of it while Tony was asleep. He settled back on the couch with a ginger ale. Halfway into _Life of Brian_ , Bruce finally folded his laptop and joined Tony on the couch.

"Sorry," Bruce said. "I just really wanted to get that out."

"Of course. Uh, there's a lot of food in the fridge, if you want any."

Bruce nodded and pulled out the crudite plate. He picked at the raw vegetables and laughed occasionally at the movie. He seemed more nervous than usual but Tony figured that was understandable, given the circumstances. Tony scrolled through his phone while keeping an eye on Bruce.

Finally, as the credits rolled, Bruce reached for the remote and turned off the television. He took a deep breath and said, "Um, Tony, there's actually something I wanted to talk to you about?"

"Sure, what's up?"

"I, um. I know this is a bad time to bring this up, but I have to just...you...you know I don't have a lot of...friends…" Tony took a breath and started to interrupt, but Bruce held up a hand and said, "Please, let me finish."

"Okay. Take your time," Tony said, though it pained him to hear Bruce struggling.

Bruce continued, "I guess I just...I'm sort of confused about...what our relationship is, and, um, yesterday my therapist said it would be a good idea to...uh...talk to you, and figure out...boundaries? He, um, he agreed with me that it sounded like our friendship is really...intense? Which, um, I wasn't sure about, because...because I haven't had many other friendships to compare it to...but...but I know you do. Have friends. Oh, god, I'm so pathetic." Bruce buried his face in his hands. 

"Bruce! You're _not_ pathetic. I...I really admire how self-reliant you are."

"I'm not self-reliant. I...I need you, Tony," Bruce whispered. "But I don't know how you...feel about me."

Tony swallowed. Carefully, he said, "Bruce, there's something...uh, I don't know if you know this. But in your first year of sobriety...they say you're not supposed to start any new romantic relationships? And, um, I have been sober for almost eight months."

There was a long silence before Bruce said, cautiously, "So do you mean to say...that the...status of our relationship could change...in four months?"

"If. Um. If you'd like it to." Tony looked sidelong at Bruce, who was now twisting his hands together and chewing on his bottom lip. Hastily, Tony added, "Or we could just...just be platonic friends. If you'd rather. But I need you too, Bruce. Whatever way you'll have me."

Bruce hesitantly put his hand on Tony's knee and said, "I...I think I'd like for it to change. If you would."

Tony beamed and put his hand over Bruce's. "Nothing would make me happier."

Bruce slumped back against the couch. "Oh, Tony, why didn't you say anything? I've been so...confused."

"I'm sorry. I...I didn't want to presume anything. Or scare you off. You know, it seems like a real dick move to be like, 'Hey just so you know I can't date anyone for a year,' to someone who hasn't expressed any interest in dating you."

"I...I didn't know how to express interest. Other than...than like this, I guess," Bruce said with a shaky laugh.

"I think you did it perfectly." Tony stroked Bruce's knuckles with his thumb and said, "You know...I think the year thing is just a guideline. We don't _really_ have to wait until December."

Bruce considered before replying, "I...I think we'd better wait, Tony, I think the guideline is there for a reason. I'd hate to do anything to endanger your progress. And...I...I need to take things slow too. It's been...it's been a long time. Since I did...anything, really."

Simultaneously disappointed and relieved, Tony said, "Okay. That sounds...very mature and smart."

"Hmm. Is that good?"

"Yeah, one of us should be mature and smart, and it's clearly not me."

Bruce let out a snort of laughter, but he still seemed worried.

Tony twined his fingers with Bruce's and said, "Seriously. We'll go slow. We'll figure things out. Together."

"Okay. That sounds good. Really good." Bruce squeezed Tony's hand and asked, "So, uh, when exactly is the year mark for you?"

"I guess if you count it from the day I left rehab...it's December 23rd."

"Hmm. This puts a lot of pressure on me to get you a great Christmas present."

"Nah. You're the present."

Bruce blushed and gave Tony a faint smile. He was so adorable, Tony wasn't sure how he'd make it another four months without kissing him. He licked his lips and said, "Hey, Bruce?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, I know we just had this really good, mature conversation about how we're going to wait four months to do anything...but, just, what if I die before then? Don't you think we should at least kiss now, just in case?"

"Tony! Please don't joke about that!" 

Bruce sounded so genuinely distressed that Tony immediately apologized. "You're right, I'm sorry. You...I know you've been worried about me, and I just...I'm sorry. Humor is kind of my coping mechanism. Especially since I can't use alcohol as a coping mechanism anymore."

"Yeah. I get that. But, I just…" Bruce trailed off. And then he surprised Tony by quickly twisting his face to Tony's and planting a gentle, chaste peck on his lips. He smiled shyly and turned away as he whispered, "Please don't die, Tony."

It felt inappropriate to be this delighted when Happy was still clinging to life in the ICU, but Tony couldn't quite keep a goofy grin off his face. "I guess I have some pretty good reasons to keep living."

"Good." Bruce cleared his throat and picked up his laptop. "Uh, also, Tony, I was wondering if...if you'd read this for me?"

Tony's grin widened. "I'd love to. If you're sure?"

Bruce nodded and passed his laptop over to Tony. He anxiously pet Veronica while Tony read and grew even more impressed with Bruce's brilliance and bravery.


	16. Stuck in the Dark, But You're My Flashlight

My name is Bruce Banner. If you've ever heard of me, it's probably because a few years ago I wrote the Gamma Garcia book series. Or it's because, upon completing the series, I had a public breakdown and flipped over a table at San Diego Comic-Con. (I hear footage of this is available on YouTube; to be honest, I'd prefer if you didn't watch it, but it's available if you must.)

I am very humbled and grateful for the success of that series. In the years since the final book was released, I heard from some readers who enjoyed my books and wondered if I'd ever write more. I heard from some people who wondered where I've been, why I never do signing tours or any of the other events that some authors do. (Somehow, people wondered this despite knowing what happened when I was invited to SDCC.) I regret that I haven't even been able to respond to any of the lovely letters I've gotten from fans.

For years, I have sought the utmost privacy, to the point of reclusiveness. In part, because I have felt so overwhelmed by the success of the Gamma Garcia books. (Though I must stress again how truly grateful I am to all of you who read them!) But the bigger reason why I retreated from the public eye was because I felt so ashamed and embarrassed, not only because of my outburst at SDCC but also because of the underlying causes of that outburst. 

But recently, I have been inspired by some other brave souls who are working to combat the negative stigmas attached to mental illness. I have thought about how lonely and isolated I have felt, and I decided that if I could speak up and make even one person feel less alone, then it would be worth it for me to do so.

The truth is, I have been spending the last several years working hard on improving my mental health. The first ten years of my life were spent in a severely abusive home. Eventually, I was fortunate enough to be taken in by my aunt and uncle, and the remaining years of my childhood were much happier. However, spending one's formative years in that kind of environment has long-lasting effects. In my case, those effects include an anxiety disorder, complex PTSD, and what's now called dissociative identity disorder (DID). DID used to be referred to as "multiple personality disorder" and it is a condition that many people fear, thanks in no small part to negative media portrayals like the upsetting horror movie _Psycho Professor_. 

Because of this negative stigma, I have been afraid to let people know about my condition, because I did not want to be thought of as someone who might suddenly snap and commit a murder, then blame it on "another personality." In reality, people who have DID almost exclusively developed it as a result of severe trauma in early childhood. We are much more likely to have been victims of crimes than we are to commit crimes. It is true that when I flipped over a table, I was not technically "myself," but rather one of my alters (or other "personalities"). Sometimes my alters do things that are wildly out of character for me, but they are not violent. (Although it was dramatic, no one was injured from that table.) I am sometimes embarrassed by things that my alters do, but I know that they were all formed as a coping mechanism. I know that they represent my brain's efforts to protect my childhood self, and so I am thankful for them, despite the difficulties they sometimes cause. (Just for the record: I privately apologized to my fellow SDCC panelists immediately after that incident, and they were all gracious enough to forgive me, and kind enough to respect my requests for privacy. I am very grateful to them and remain huge fans of their work.)

When I got the idea for the Gamma Garcia series, I was in the middle of a stay at a mental hospital, following an attempt to die by suicide. I mention this not to solicit pity, but to offer hope. With the help of therapy, medication, my beloved psychiatric service dog, and the support of my loved ones, I am doing very well these days. 

It truly means the world to me that my books have found so many readers, and I am humbled whenever I hear that my books have meant something to someone. Despite the progress I have made, I fear that my anxiety will never permit me to appear in the public eye for signings or speaking events. I hope that you will all understand, and know how much I wish the opposite were true. 

Most of all, I hope that if any of you feel the same way that I have felt at my lowest points, that you will take away from this a message of hope. I know that for some of you, it may be very difficult to imagine that you will ever feel safe or happy. And for some of you, it will be a very difficult process to begin to heal. But I promise you, it is possible, and it is worthwhile. 

Thank you for taking the time to read this. 

Sincerely,

Bruce Banner

* * *

Tony blinked back tears as he closed Bruce's laptop after reading the draft of his open letter. "Bruce, this is really beautiful." Tony was especially proud of how straightforward this letter sounded, compared to the embarrassed letter Bruce had sent Tony after first revealing his diagnosis. He knew it must have been difficult for Bruce to write.

Bruce twisted his hands anxiously. "So do you think I should publish it?"

Carefully, Tony said, "I think you're right that if you did, it might help make people feel less alone. But I know that you've worked so hard to preserve your privacy…"

"I'm not giving up my privacy. I'm just...opening up a little. And...for years, I've been so afraid of people finding out about me. And I'm tired of it."

"This is so Ross can't blackmail you any more," Tony realized. He rubbed his face with his hand and said, "God, I'm so sorry I dragged you into this whole mess."

"Ross is part of it," Bruce allowed. "But that's not your fault. He's been taking up too much of my mental space for _years_. He...well, anyway, Ross aside...you inspired me, Tony. You've spoken so candidly about your addiction and recovery, and I know it's helped a lot of people."

Tony smiled. "Yeah, I'm kind of a mental health hero."

"And so modest, too," Bruce said with an answering smile.

"But, Bruce, I...I mean, I'm used to being in the spotlight. I've been in the spotlight since the day I was born." That was literally true; a photo of Howard and Maria holding him in the hospital had been printed in _Life_ magazine. "You haven't. Are you sure you want to do this?"

"No. I'm actually pretty sure I don't _want_ to do it. But I think I _should_."

"Oh, Bruce. I'm so proud of you. But maybe you should talk to your therapist before you move forward with this?" Tony hoped that that was good advice. If it were Tony's revelation to make, he probably would have already tweeted it. But he didn't want Bruce to jump into anything he might regret, especially not for Tony's sake.

"That's probably a good idea. I mean, I've talked to him about it in the abstract sense, the idea of making some kind of public statement, but not recently." Bruce yawned and said, "I'll call him in the morning."

"I'm ready for bed too," Tony said. "Even though it feels like all I've done is sleep all day."

"Dealing with this kind of stress is physically tiring. Besides, most of your sleep has been in short chunks. You probably haven't gotten much REM sleep."

"That's a good point."

Bruce cleared his throat and said, "The thing is, so, I, uh, didn't really plan on spending the night when I left this morning...I brought supplies for Veronica, and my meds, but not much else."

"Oh, of course. I'll call down to the front desk and get you some stuff."

"Oh, you don't have to do that...I was just going to ask if you'd mind if I slept in my boxers?"

Tony grinned. "I thought we were waiting until December." Bruce blushed, and Tony said, "Aw, no, I don't mind, as long as you're comfortable. But I kind of think you're not. So let me just call." 

Tony knew that Bruce usually slept in pajama pants and a T-shirt; or at least he did when Tony was staying in his house. Tony figured he should help Bruce preserve his modesty as long as he wanted. Tony still had the bag Pepper had packed for him to bring to Bruce's house, but he hadn't had a chance to have laundry done, and he didn't want to give Bruce dirty sweatpants. So he made a quick call, and moments later someone brought up a toothbrush and new set of silk pajamas, in an emerald green color that brought out Bruce's eyes. 

Bruce laughed when he saw the delivery. "I wonder what they must think."

Tony shrugged. "That one of us is forgetful. They're used to doing stuff like this for business travelers, it's no big deal. It's not like I called and asked for condoms and lube." Which he had definitely done on other occasions.

Bruce coughed sharply and said, "Well...thank you." Bruce prepared for bed and slipped under the covers. Tony joined him and switched off the lights. He was careful to leave plenty of space between them in the king size bed. He knew that Bruce was probably right; they should take things slow for both of their sakes, even if not all of Tony's body parts agreed with that assessment.

"Good night, Tony."

"Good night, Bruce. Sleep tight."

Tony closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he was dying.

Bruce sat up beside him. He turned on the light and said softly, "Hey, Tony, breathe."

"Can't," Tony said. With difficulty, he managed, "Call...911…"

"Tony, it's okay, you're having a panic attack. Just take a deep breath."

Tony clutched his chest. "I'm dying!"

Bruce squeezed his hand. "You're not dying. You had a nightmare and now you're having a panic attack. I know it's scary, but you're going to be okay."

In a moment of cruel clarity, Tony realized that he was the boy who cried wolf. He'd made too many jokes about how he almost died, and now Bruce didn't believe him, and now he was for real going to die. He grabbed his phone to call 911 himself, but his hands were shaking too badly.

Bruce reached out and took the phone from him. "Shh, Tony, just breathe in…"

"It's...not in...my head!" 

"Oh, Tony, I didn't say it was in your head. Panic attacks are real for your whole body, and they're so awful, Tony, I'm so sorry. But you're going to be okay, I promise. Is this the first time you've had a panic attack?"

"I don't want...to die."

"Have you ever had a panic attack?" Bruce repeated.

Tony shook his head no, and Bruce smiled softly. Tony said, "I'm sorry...for joking...before...but this...is real."

Bruce was so calm. Why was he so calm? Tony thought they'd just established that Bruce cared for Tony. Did Bruce _want_ him to die? The edges of his vision started to go black and he whimpered in anguish. He was going to die right here in bed with Bruce and Bruce was going to feel _so bad_ about it.

"I know it's real. Hey. Tony. Look at me. Do you feel my hand?"

Tony nodded.

"Which one of your hands am I holding? Right or left?"

Tony was dying and Bruce just thought he was an idiot. His last words were going to be some kindergarten bullshit.

"Tony...answer me. Right or left? No, don't look down, look at me, look at my eyes, just tell me which hand you feel my hand touching."

"Left," Tony answered with difficulty.

Bruce smiled. "Good," he cooed. "Now, am I touching it harder or softer than I was before?"

"...Harder."

Bruce kept calmly placing his hand on Tony and asking stupid questions like that, and eventually, Tony found that he could breathe normally again. The pain in his chest subsided. He was okay. He burst into tears at the realization.

"Oh, Tony," Bruce said softly. Tony leaned forward and collapsed, sobbing, against Bruce's chest. Bruce stroked his back and murmured soft reassurances.

Finally, Tony caught his breath. "I'm sorry," he mumbled into Bruce's chest. He was dripping tears and snot all over Bruce's new silk pajamas.

"Shh, Tony, you don't have anything to apologize for."

"No, I mean...before. I'm sorry for joking so much about me dying. I...I think...I...this is going to sound so _dumb_ , but...I'd been making all these jokes about it but it never _really_ clicked for me that I could _actually_ die. For real. Not until I saw Happy in the hospital, and I…" Tony sniffed and wiped his face with his sleeve. "I don't want to die," he whispered.

"I don't think that sounds dumb. I think you've had a lot to process. And, like you said before, humor is pretty clearly your coping mechanism...but that'll only take you so far. And you've had a lot to cope with."

Tony nodded. "And...and I feel so selfish. I should be worrying about Happy, not myself. He's the one who got hurt."

"Well, the one who got hurt most recently. But hey, believe me, you can worry about multiple things simultaneously."

"Yeah. I mean, I _am_ worried about him...I don't want Happy to die, either."

"I don't think he will. I think he's gonna be okay."

"He'd better be," Tony muttered.

Bruce patted Tony's shoulder and started to peel away from him. "Don't leave me!" Tony cried out. He immediately felt embarrassed by the outburst, but he still didn't want Bruce to leave him.

Bruce leaned forward and gave Tony an awkwardly angled hug. "I won't leave you, Tony, I promise. I was just going to make some tea. Would you like that? Something warm to drink. It'll just take a minute."

Tony licked his lips and nodded. "Okay. Yeah. Thanks."

Bruce squeezed his shoulder and said, "I'll be right back."

Tony wrapped his arms around himself and watched Bruce climb out of the bed and pad over to the room's kitchenette counter. Without needing to ask, Bruce stirred a packet of sugar into the tea and brought it back to Tony. "I always get this awful metallic taste in my mouth when I have panic attacks," Bruce said casually.

"God, that's part of it too? I thought maybe I bit my tongue." Tony sipped the tea. He generally preferred coffee, but the tea helped remove that terrible taste from his mouth, and it was nice to hold on to the warm mug with his shaky hands. But it made it harder for him to cling to Bruce the way he wanted to.

Bruce watched Tony for a moment and then said, "C'mere, lean back against me." Tony positioned himself accordingly and Bruce wrapped his arms around Tony's waist from behind while Tony sipped tea. Veronica stretched out alongside both of them. Tony sighed with contentment and sagged against Bruce. After a moment, he asked, "Bruce? Is that really what panic attacks feel like?"

"I mean, I think they probably feel different for everyone, but...yeah, that was a pretty classic panic attack you had."

"It was _horrible_. You have those? A lot?"

"Not as much as I used to. But yeah, they're pretty horrible. It must have been really scary for you if you've never had one before. It's a little bit easier when you know what to expect. But, uh, still not great, to be honest."

"That's terrible!" Tony had always assumed that having a panic attack just meant you were really scared. He had no idea that it entailed all _this_. Why hadn't anyone figured out a cure for them yet?

Bruce let out a gentle laugh. "Here's what I think we should do, Tony. Let's try to go back to sleep, and first thing in the morning, let's both call our therapists and see when their earliest available appointments are."

"Yeah. Okay. That's a good idea." Over the last few months, despite Pepper's firmest attempts to re-schedule, he had kept finding excuses to skip appointments with Jane. It wasn't that Tony didn't like her, it was just that...he was very busy. And he'd been feeling so much better, he'd thought maybe he was done with all that. (This, despite Sam and Jane both having told him repeatedly that recovery would not be a straight line of progress, that he would face setbacks. But he'd fooled himself into thinking that surely he was the exception to that rule.)

"I'm glad you think so. Let's lie back down." 

"Okay," Tony agreed. He reluctantly leaned away from Bruce, to place the half-empty mug on the nightstand. 

"It's okay, Tony, I've got you," Bruce reassured him. "Could you turn the light off?"

"Could...we leave it on, please?" Tony asked in a small voice. 

He felt very silly for asking, but Bruce immediately said, "Of course."

Tony lay down, gazing at the bedside lamp. Bruce curled up behind him, wrapping his arms firmly around Tony. "I've got you," Bruce repeated, and Tony managed to fall back to sleep, safe in Bruce's embrace.


	17. The Past Can't Haunt Me If I Don't Let It

Thaddeus Ross Found Guilty of Attempted Murder

LOS ANGELES--A jury found Thaddeus Ross guilty of two counts of attempted murder. Ross was found to be responsible for the sabotage that caused Tony Stark to fall from a 100-foot height last year, as well as the explosive device that severely injured Stark’s employee, Harold Hogan. 

On a lesser change, Ross was also convicted of the misuse of government funds. Ross was employed as a liaison of the Department of Defense, but channeled DOD money into his own pet projects. 

Ross has been sentenced to 30 years in prison. 

His accomplice, Obadiah Stane, the former COO of Stark Films, was found guilty of obstruction of justice and sentenced to 15 years in prison. 

Tony Stark’s publicist, James Rhodes, released this statement: "Tony is relieved that Ross and Stane have been brought to justice, although both Tony and Happy have a long road to recovery ahead of them after the injuries caused by these men. We appreciate all the thoughts and prayers the public have offered us."

* * *

When Tony got home from what he hoped would be his final visit to the Los Angeles Metropolitan Courthouse, his first stop was the guest room that had become Bruce’s over the last few months. He popped his head in the open doorframe and found Bruce curled up on the sofa with Veronica and a book. "Hey, Bruce, what do you say, we go out and celebrate?"

Bruce peered up over his reading glasses and asked, "What are we celebrating exactly?" When Tony had called to let him know how the sentencing has gone, Bruce hadn’t seemed as excited as Tony had expected. He knew the trials had been hard on Bruce--hard on both of them--and he thought Bruce would be happy they were over. But Bruce wasn’t really the type to jump for joy anyway; maybe he’d just seemed reserved over the phone.

Tony smiled wide and swept out his arm as he announced, "The American justice system! Aren't you glad that Ross is locked up? Probably for the rest of his life, unless he’s really diligent about his vitamins. And it's a lot because of you, you know. Matt said that video you took at the hospital was a critical piece of evidence, even though the cinematography was, no offense, lacking."

"Sorry, not all of us are Oscar winners."

"I mean, you're still a brilliant artist, don't get me wrong, film just isn't your area of expertise," Tony said.

"Do you think that's why he only got 30 years in jail?" Bruce asked glumly.

"What, because the video of him essentially confessing to his crimes was poorly framed?" Tony asked incredulously. "Um, no, I think it's because he's a rich white guy. And I should know about that. Anyway, Matt said it was about as good of sentence as we could hope for."

"But they tried to kill you!"

"But they _failed_. Anyway, if he doesn't die in jail, he'll be hella old when he gets out. By then we'll have Robocops to protect us."

Bruce cracked a small smile and tucked a bookmark into his book. Sensing progress, Tony asked, "So, what do you say? Let's get dinner somewhere besides my house or the hospital cafeteria?"

"Like...a date?" Bruce asked, his brow furrowed. Tony wanted to bend down and kiss his adorable, worried forehead.

Instead, he asked, "Bruce, what day is it?"

"It's, uh, November 10th?"

"So no, it's not a date. Just friends having a celebratory dinner." Despite all the time they'd spent together over the last three months, they'd still decided to wait until December 23rd, Tony's one year of sobriety, before they'd try "dating." The wait was (figuratively) killing Tony, but at the same time, it had been a nice distraction from his more serious problems. But now everything else was largely resolved, leaving only the problem of how much longer Tony was going to have to wait to give Bruce a real kiss. 

Bruce studied the charcoal suit Tony was still wearing from court, then looked down at his own worn jeans and faded flannel. "I'd have to change."

"No, you wouldn't! It's not a red carpet. It's just a restaurant. You can wear whatever you want." Bruce bit his lip and twisted his hands. Tony bit back a sigh and said, "Or we could order takeout."

"No, it's...um...let's go out," Bruce said, with the same tone someone else might use to say, "Let's go tour the sewage processing plant."

"No, never mind," Tony said. He gestured at the large plate glass window, which currently revealed a beautiful sunset over the ocean. "I mean, I heard it's supposed to rain tonight, traffic will be a nightmare."

"I should just go home. Now that the trial's over and everything."

"Oh. I mean, yeah, of course, I'm sure your plants missed you." 

Bruce looked hurt. "Look, I know my life isn't as exciting as yours, but it's mine. I don't have red carpets to walk. I just have my garden to water."

Tony sighed. "I'm sorry, Bruce, I didn’t mean for that to sound like that. I mean, I'm sure the plants _did_ miss you, that gardener we hired probably didn't give them the kind of TLC they're used to from you." He took a deep breath, and remembered all of his therapy sessions, and carefully formulated some "I" statements to express his feelings. "I was just feeling hurt. I'll miss you. But you should go home if that's what you want to do."

Bruce looked doubtful. "I've been staying with you for almost three months. Aren't you tired of me?"

"Bruce! No, never. But I get it if you're tired of _me_." They'd chastely shared a hotel room for two weeks, and Tony had to admit that he'd been getting a little stir crazy by the end of that. Not because of Bruce, but just because of the small quarters, back and forth between the hotel room and Happy's hospital room. On more than one occasion, he'd fantasized about crawling into the television to spend a little time in the world of Happy's favorite show. He hated tea and pretense but at least he'd have some breathing room at Downton Abbey.

But once Ross and Stane had been brought into custody for their trials and Tony’s home was no longer closed off as a crime scene, Bruce had stayed with him there. Mostly in his guest room, unless one of them had a particularly bad night. (Given the memories the trials dredged up, there were quite a few bad nights between the two of them. But through it all, it had been immensely reassuring to know that Bruce was at least under the same roof.)

"Not--look. I think I could just use some time to myself."

"Okay, sure," Tony agreed. "That's reasonable. Like, an hour, or..." Bruce scrunched up his face and Tony said, "I'm kidding. Take your time. You know I feel terrible about getting you involved with this whole mess in the first place. You wouldn't have had to leave your home at all otherwise." Thankfully, the security company had never found anything suspicious at Bruce's house, but after what happened to Happy, Tony had refused to take any chances by letting Bruce return to his isolated house. And Bruce had seemed reluctant to leave Tony alone, too. 

"And _you_ know it's not your fault," Bruce said patiently. "Ross has had it out for me for years."

Tony continued, "When your plants are fully hydrated and fertilized and whatever else plants need, we can go out to this new vegan restaurant that just opened up not too far from here. Pepper says they have kombucha on tap. And Rhodey can get the paparazzi to steer clear."

Bruce smiled. "That sounds...nice."

"If you're into that kind of thing."

Bruce packed up his few possessions and Veronica. Tony followed them out to the recently repaired garage and gave Bruce a goodbye hug. "Text me when you get home, okay?" Tony asked, trying to sound casual instead of like a nervous wreck.

"Of course. Thank you for everything, Tony."

Tony shook his head. "Thank _you_. Seriously, I would have lost it these last few months without you."

"Well...I'm glad I could help." Bruce ducked his head shyly. "I'll, uh, see you later." He opened the passenger door of his Prius for Veronica to hop in, and then he drove off with one last wave at Tony. Tony sighed and stared at his phone. He knew he'd be anxious until he heard that Bruce had made it safely home, which wouldn't be for at least another hour, longer if it did start to rain.

Despite his therapist's best efforts, Tony’s anxiety had been at a record high over the last few months. It had reduced slightly when Happy was moved out of the ICU and into a regular private room, and again when Happy had been finally released from the hospital altogether. And of course he'd been relieved when the trials' verdicts came in. But now that Bruce had left, he felt his anxiety ratcheting back up to an 11. Which was silly. Of course Bruce wanted to go home. He'd been away for months. It didn't mean that Bruce wouldn't come back. Of course he would.

And Bruce would be safe. He was a very careful driver, and his home was secure. Nothing bad was going to happen to Bruce.

Yet Tony had a sudden craving for a drink. He still had some cars that hadn't been damaged in the explosion. He could drive out and have a drink, just one, and no one would know. He started walking toward the lockbox that held all of his car keys. He made it as far as keying in the code when his phone vibrated with a text. It was Pepper, wondering where he was.

He hesitated for a moment, then called her. "Hey, Pep."

"Tony! Where are you?"

"In the garage. I was just seeing Bruce off."

"Oh, Bruce left already?"

"Yeah, just now," Tony replied, trying not to sound too depressed about it.

"That’s too bad. I was thinking we should all go out to dinner to celebrate the sentencing."

"Me too! But Bruce wanted to get back."

"I guess it has been awhile since he was able to go home, the poor guy. Well, we should go out anyway."

Tony looked down at the car keys. He wouldn’t be able to drink under Pepper’s watchful eye, but maybe that was for the best. Maybe he didn’t really need a drink, just some company. He shut the lockbox and said, "Yeah, that sounds good."

Instead of the vegan place (which Tony would have endured for Bruce), Pepper, Nat, Rhodey, and Carol joined Tony for dinner at one of his favorite Italian restaurants. It was exclusive enough that he didn’t usually get bothered very much, but it served food that was easily recognizable as "food."

"It’s too bad Bruce isn’t here," Pepper said. "I bet he’d love this salad."

"Yeah," Tony said glumly. "Hopefully he’ll come back."

"I’m sure he will," Pepper said. 

"What if he doesn’t? What if he decides to stay up in the mountains forever?"

"Why would he do that? Ross is locked up now, and everyone loved that essay he published," Pepper said. "I've literally never seen so many nice comments about a New York Times article."

Tony decided to just give in to self-pity. "What if he’s sick of me?"

"Of course he’s sick of you, he hasn't been able to go home for three months," Nat said. "He's sick of everything."

"Right," Tony said in a small voice.

"So he needs a chance to recharge," Nat continued. "In his own space."

"Oh."

Nat gave Tony one of her rare smiles. "Don't worry, Tony. If Bruce didn't care about you, he wouldn't have stayed here this long in the first place. You know that, right?"

"I guess so." Tony fidgeted with his water glass. "But, I mean, it wasn't safe...his house is so isolated, and who knows what Ross might have arranged? He was so angry about losing his government grift scheme, and apparently he’s had an axe to grind with Bruce for years."

"Bruce could have stayed with Jen. He could have gotten a hotel room. Hell, he could have gone to Norway. He had options, is what I'm saying," Nat said. "And he chose to stay with you. For some unknown reason."

Tony shredded a piece of bread and checked his phone again.

Rhodey laughed. "Tony, this is precious. You've never been in a real relationship before. You've got some catching up to do."

"I'm not even in a real relationship now!"

Rhodey rolled his eyes. "Right, whatever, you're waiting until December 23rd. Why do you keep checking your phone?"

"I…"

"You're waiting to hear from Bruce, right?"

"I just want to make sure he got home okay!" Tony said defensively.

Rhodey smiled. "It's good, Tony. I'm happy for you. But you just...you gotta learn how to compromise."

"Of course I know how to compromise."

"Mmm-hmm," Pepper said. "Of course you do."

"Hey, Tony, remind me again what it is that you do for a job?" Rhodey asked.

"Okay, hey, just because I'm a director doesn't mean I can't compromise in my personal life. Actually, I have to compromise at work too! It's not like I just get my way all the time." 

His friends all looked at him skeptically and then burst out laughing.

"I don't think I'm that bad," Tony muttered. He took a sullen sip of ginger ale. Sure, Tony had high standards, but that was why his movies were so good. And he was always sure to reward the hard work of his cast and crew. But he wasn't too demanding of Bruce. Was he?

Pepper composed herself and said, gently, "I think the main thing you have to understand is that you're an extrovert and Bruce is an introvert, and you two are going to have to compromise on things that involve social energy."

"Like me and Pepper," Nat said with a nod.

"Well, okay, but so does that just mean we can never go out anywhere?"

"Nat and I go out," Pepper said. "When I don't have to work."

Tony winced. "Sorry…"

"I'm just teasing," Pepper said. "But it does mean that sometimes when I want to go out and do things, I go with a friend instead of Nat, if she wants some time to decompress."

Nat crossed her arms. "I'm here now, aren't I?"

Pepper smiled and squeezed Nat's hand. "Yes, and I do appreciate it."

Tony's phone lit up just then with a text from Bruce: "Made it home fine. Hope you're having a good night."

"Aww," Pepper said.

"What?" Tony asked, clutching his phone tightly.

"Just your face, when you saw his message. Honestly, you're so adorable."

Tony furrowed his brows. He didn't think he was that obvious. He texted back, "Glad you made it!" Then he typed and deleted a few variations on "Miss you already," and "Wish you were here."

"What are you doing?" Nat asked. 

"Just...trying to decide what to say."

"What do you want to say?" Pepper asked, a soft look in her eyes.

"Is it weird if I tell him I miss him? I don't want to sound...desperate."

"You are obviously desperate," Nat said drily.

"I think it's sweet," Pepper said.

"Just be honest," Carol said. "That's the best thing."

Tony sighed. He wrote back, "Glad you made it home safely! Hope your plants are okay. I miss you already."

"Now give me your phone," Pepper said, holding out her hand.

Tony clutched it. "What if...something happens?"

"I'll let you know," Pepper promised. "Just be with us now, okay?"

"Okay," Tony agreed. He handed over his phone, just as their waiter brought out their food. He tried his best to put on a light and cheerful tone for his friends, when all he really wanted to do was text Bruce that this very expensive restaurant's pesto wasn't as good as the stuff made from his garden.

They'd been unbothered throughout their meal, but when they left, a few photographers were waiting outside the restaurant. One called out, "Tony, how do you feel about the sentencing?"

Tony just gave a polite nod and wave. Rhodey slid between Tony and the photographers and said, "Mr. Stark has already released his statement and is now just trying to get his life back to normal. Have a good night." He slid his arm around Tony protectively.

Another photographer called out, "Tony, don't you wish you could toast your victory with something stronger than water?"

"Jesus Christ, leave him alone," Nat mumbled.

Tony smiled politely and said, "Come here, let me tell you a secret." The photographers leaned in expectantly and Tony said, "I just...really love...ginger ale. It's delicious! When was the last time you had a ginger ale? Treat yourselves."

And then the valet was back with Rhodey's SUV, and Tony climbed in the backseat with relief. "That wasn't too bad," he said brightly.

"I hate those guys," Nat said.

"They're just doing their jobs," Tony said. But he thought, with a twinge, of Bruce. Bruce would unquestionably hate having his picture taken by paparazzi. Tony was so used to it that he barely thought about it anymore. But he could take measures to protect Bruce. Rhodey would help. It would be fine. 

Back at home, Pepper hesitated before returning Tony's phone. She said, "Tony, I want you to know that I'm really proud of you, for how hard you've been working to stay sober. And I just want to ask you...do you remember _why_ you're supposed to wait a year before dating someone?"

"Um...because I'm supposed to stay focused?"

Patiently, Pepper added, "And because you're in a really vulnerable state, Tony, where all your emotions feel heightened. Especially with all the added stress from Happy and the trials and everything. So I just want you to keep that in mind, okay?"

"No, right, I get it." Tony peered at the phone in Pepper's hand. "You're trying to gently break the news to me that Bruce hasn't texted me back."

"Tony, can you ever remember freaking out if someone you were seeing waited a few hours between texts?"

"I'm not _freaking out_." Pepper stared at him unblinking, and Tony sighed. "Well, okay, no, but that was because I knew I could always just find some other model to hook up with. But there's not another Bruce!"

"Oh, Tony, that is somehow simultaneously so gross and so adorable. But look, it's actually perfectly normal for couples not to be attached to the hip 24/7, and to have some gaps in communication. You and Bruce have been forced into a really strange, intense situation because of everything happening around you, and now you're getting back to normal. But normal is going to feel weird at first. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah," Tony admitted.

"Good. Here's your phone back. Oh, and I set your alarm, because I rescheduled your next appointment with Jane. You're seeing her tomorrow at 9am."

"Yeah, that's...probably good. Thanks, Pepper."

"You're welcome. Take care, Tony."

Tony stared at his phone glumly. Sure enough, no reply had come from Bruce. It was still too early to go to bed, so he put his phone face down on his desk and tried to get some work done on his script. He gave up after a hopelessly unproductive hour and retreated to bed with his e-reader. He was working his way through yet another re-read of the Gamma Garcia series. Just as he was about to give in to sleep, his phone lit up with a text from Bruce: a photo of some plants from his garden, lit by one of the solar lights that peppered Bruce's yard. Tony wasn't an expert, but he thought the plants looked good. They were green, anyway. Should they have been...greener? Or blooming, maybe?

Tony was glad he'd convinced Bruce to get a phone with a camera, but sometimes Bruce's messages were still inscrutable. Maybe the message he was meant to understand was simply that the reason Bruce hadn't texted back right away was because it hadn't rained after all, and he'd been gardening by moonlight like some sort of elf. (Or hobgoblin.) While he tried to decide what he should say about the plants, Bruce sent another text: "Good night, Tony. I miss you, too."

Tony knew Pepper was right; it wasn't normal for him to feel so happy about such a simple text message. But Tony was usually pretty good at seizing happiness wherever he could find it. He smiled to himself as he texted back, "Good night, Bruce, don't let Veronica bite." 

He could _hear_ the indignation in Bruce's response text: "She would never! She's VERY well trained." 

Tony fell asleep with a sense of contentment. He just had to get through the next six weeks, and then nothing would prevent him from being together with Bruce the way he wanted. The way they both wanted. ...Right?


	18. Beautiful People With Beautiful Problems

Celebs: They're Just Like Us!

Tony Stark, seen here leaving Andolini in Malibu, enthusiastically announced his love of ginger ale. Stark said, "When was the last time you had a ginger ale? Treat yourselves." #sponcon

* * *

Tony Stark To Be Honored at National Alliance for Addiction Recovery Coalition Gala

LOS ANGELES--Writer-director Tony Stark will be honored at this year's NAARC gala. NAARC president Karina Perez announced, "Tony Stark's honesty and openness about his experiences with addiction and recovery make him an ideal representative for the recovery community."

* * *

Tony looked up from his script that was still failing to write itself and was delighted to see an incoming call from Bruce. Aside from texts, they hadn't spoken to each other since Bruce had gone home a few days ago. He answered on the first ring and failed to sound casual as he near-shouted, "Hey, Bruce!" 

"Hey, Tony. How've you been?" Bruce asked with his usual husky mumble.

"Okay, I guess, all things considered. I dunno. It's been kind of weird. What about you?"

"Yeah, weird," Bruce agreed. "Um, I was wondering, what are you up to tonight?"

"Trying to write, I guess. Unless you've got a better offer?"

"I don't know if it's better, but, I thought you might want to come up and have dinner with me?"

"That is absolutely a better offer. Yes. What time should I be there?"

"Oh, any time," Bruce said vaguely. "I'll text you the security code for the gate, it's changed. Since. You know."

"Yeah. Sounds good! See you in a bit."

Tony saved his minimal progress and closed his computer. He dressed himself with care, aiming to look casual, but not too casual. He knew that the odds were good that Bruce would be wearing Crocs, but Tony wanted to look good anyway. But not _intimidatingly_ good. Not tonight.

Finally dressed in dark jeans, a vintage Black Sabbath T-shirt, and a blazer, he passed Pepper's office on his way to the garage. She stuck her head out and called, "Hey, where are you going?"

"Dinner."

"There's nothing on your schedule."

"...Bruce called."

She grinned. "Tell him I said hi."

"I will."

"And don't do anything I wouldn't do!"

"That doesn't give me a lot to work with, Pep."

"Ugh, get out of here, Tony. And text me when you get there."

"Yes, ma'am."

It had been a few months since Tony had made the winding drive up to Ojai. He felt a sense of peace as he drove; he no longer felt nervous when he started a car. (Granted: he'd still kept an increased household security presence, so he was pretty sure no one unauthorized had been in the garage.) 

It was a relief to see that Bruce's house looked unchanged. He let himself in and found Bruce and Veronica flopped on the living room couch. Bruce was reading and Veronica was sleeping, and they both looked extremely cute. 

Tony smiled and said, "Hey, Bruce."

Bruce blinked up at him and smiled back. "Oh, hey, Tony. You're earlier than I expected."

"You said any time!"

"I know. Of course. Come in, have a seat."

Careful not to disturb any of the piles of books in the living room, Tony settled into an overstuffed armchair.

"Sorry, do you mind if I finish this chapter?" Bruce asked sheepishly.

Tony laughed, knowing how absorbed Bruce could get in his reading. "Go ahead." He picked up the top book off a nearby stack and started flipping through it. He quickly lost interest in the elaborate dragon society the book depicted, so he got up and paced the room. He was surprised to see an issue of _Us Weekly_ on the coffee table; that wasn't Bruce's usual speed. He took that back to his chair and flipped through it, wincing when he spotted himself in that inane "Celebs: They're Just Like Us!" feature. 

Bruce cleared his throat and said, "I, uh, stole that from a waiting room."

"Oh no, you've developed a taste for crime! Or was it one of the other guys?" Tony saw that Bruce had put down his book and was now giving Tony his full attention.

Bruce laughed. "It was me. I just wanted that breaking news story on hand to remind myself to stock up on ginger ale for you."

Tony rolled his eyes. "It's so ridiculous. But as far as magazine stories go, at least it's inoffensive."

"Wait, are you saying you don't actually like ginger ale? This is a scandal." Bruce seemed so relaxed and happy as he teased Tony. It clicked for Tony that Bruce really had benefited from their time apart. He felt guilty for having kept Bruce away from his home for so long, but also relieved to see Bruce like this again, unlike the tense, rattled version of himself he'd been by the time he left Malibu.

"Please, keep it to yourself. I need that Canada Dry sponsorship to feed my family."

"Your secret's safe with me, I promise," Bruce said solemnly. "Wait, are you actually paid to endorse ginger ale?"

"No, but I think the magazine itself is. I'm sure I could be, if I wanted to."

Bruce laughed. "Your life is so weird. Anyway, are you hungry? Should we go get dinner?"

Tony tilted his head curiously. He had assumed Bruce would cook something. "Sure, what did you have in mind?"

Hesitantly, Bruce said, "I, uh, was thinking about what you said. About it being nice to go somewhere besides home. But, I, uh--"

"--Bruce, I'm sorry, I didn't want to suggest anything that would make you uncomfortable--"

"But, Tony, you're right. It's not fair to expect you to just sit around our houses all the time. I just…" Bruce gestured at the magazine.

"No, Bruce, you're completely right. To be honest, I'm so used to that garbage that I barely even notice it anymore, but of course...of course you would feel differently about it. I'm sorry I didn't think about it."

Bruce smiled. "Tony, could you please stop interrupting me and let me ask you out to dinner?"

"Oh. Uh, okay."

"There's this little taqueria in Ojai I thought we could go to? It's...it's nothing fancy like what you're used to, I'm sure, but it's really good...and I don't think anyone would bother us there."

"I'd love to."

"Okay. Good. I'll drive." Bruce carefully helped Veronica down from the couch. Then he took off his reading glasses and made a half-hearted attempt to remove the dog fur from his pants before visibly giving up with a shrug. Tony loved him _so_ much. 

Bruce carefully put Veronica's service vest on her and led the way to his Prius. He turned down the NPR station and asked, "So have you been able to replace your damaged cars yet?"

Tony ran a hand through his hair. "Ah, it hasn't really been a priority. I mean, I got the insurance payout for them, but it just...uh...no, I haven't." He hated the idea that he could just replace the cars when Happy was still struggling to recover from the explosion. Also...he still had several perfectly good cars.

"Maybe you could just get a Prius instead," Bruce teased.

Tony sighed and shook his head. Bruce _knew_ that Tony considered Priuses to be offensively ugly cars, although he did appreciate their environmental benefits. "Maybe a Tesla."

Bruce parked behind a small, hole-in-the-wall place. A neon sign pronounced it to be "Maria's," which Tony took as a good sign. Inside proved to be counter service only. There were a handful of chipped Formica tables indoors, as well as an outdoor patio. The woman behind the counter lit up when she saw Bruce and started chattering at him in rapid-fire Spanish. Bruce's cheeks glowed slightly as he accepted the barrage of words. Tony had a rudimentary grasp of Spanish--it was hard not to have one in Southern California--but he couldn't quite keep up with her. 

Finally, she stopped talking long enough for Bruce to get a word in edgewise. He replied in Spanish, but he spoke more slowly and Tony thought he could understand that Bruce was apologizing for not having seen her lately. Halfway through ordering, he turned to Tony and asked, "Sorry, do you mind if I order for you?"

"Go ahead," Tony said, happy to see Bruce so confident.

The woman noticed Tony and asked Bruce who he was. Bruce happily introduced his amigo Tony to the woman, who turned out to be _the_ Maria. 

Tony reached into the depths of his high school Spanish classes and pulled out a " _Mucho gusto en conocerle._ " Maria smiled widely and said some more things, until Bruce finally managed to end the conversation and brought Tony over to a corner table.

"I get it," Tony said. "You just wanted to bring me here to show off."

With a self-deprecating tone, Bruce said, "Mm-hmm, yeah. _You_ might be able to get a reservation at Spago, or whatever, but _I'm_ in with Maria."

"It's working, I'm very impressed," said Tony, who actually couldn’t stand Spago.

"Just wait until you try the food."

After a few minutes, a teenage boy brought out 2 trays laden with food. He handed them to Bruce and did a visible double take when he saw Tony. Tony smiled and nodded.

"Is it okay if we eat outside? It’s a little cramped in here, with V and all."

"Sure," Tony agreed, though he knew sitting outside would increase the odds of him getting recognized by passersby. He took a tray from Bruce and settled outside, at the table farthest from the sidewalk. 

Bruce carefully divided the food, though it was pretty obvious which were the vegetarian options.

"This looks great," Tony said.

Bruce gestured at his plate and warned, "Be careful. This salsa is really hot."

"That sounds like a challenge." Tony snagged one of Bruce's veggie tacos and took a bite. Tears immediately started streaming down his cheeks.

"Tony, I literally just...well, here, drink this." He thrust a glass of horchata at Tony. Tony gratefully drank half of it in one sip.

"Oh my god. I've never respected or feared you more, Bruce."

Bruce laughed. "I've been coming here for years. I kinda worked my way up to it."

When Tony's mouth had recovered, he took a bite of one of the carnitas tacos Bruce had thoughtfully ordered for him with mild salsa. "Oh, god, this is so good," Tony moaned.

Bruce smiled. "You'll have to tell Maria."

Tony had eaten a few more bites of his tolerably spicy tacos when they were approached by a tween boy with his parents trailing behind him.

Shyly, the boy said, "Excuse me--"

The boy's father said, "Jake, leave them alone, they're trying to eat."

"It's okay," Tony said. "What's up, Jake?"

"Um, I was just wondering, are you...Tony Stark?"

"That's what it says on my Oscars."

The boy's eyes grew wide and he said, "I knew it! Oh my gosh, I love your movies. Well, some of them I'm not allowed to see yet. But you're _so cool_. Wait, I'm sorry, are you crying?"

Tony laughed. "I tried some salsa that didn't agree with me."

"Oh, yeah, that happens to me sometimes. I like grilled cheese better."

"It's good to cry once in awhile. Cleans out your tear ducts."

"Really?"

"Definitely."

"Can, um. Can I take a selfie with you?"

"Sure." Tony leaned in and smiled big. "Nice to meet you, Jake."

"Thank you so much," Jake's mom said. "It means a lot to him."

"Mommm," Jake said.

"Take care, it was nice meeting you," Tony said. The family dispersed.

"That was cute," Bruce said. "I do have to say, most of your movies are not appropriate for children, though."

"Hey, the kid's got taste. And I'm sure I was watching worse stuff when I was his age, and I turned out fine. Ish." He glanced around to see if anyone else had noticed him.

Bruce noticed him looking and said, "Oh, no, should we go?"

"Well, it's just that usually when one person asks for a picture, it sets off kind of a chain reaction of other people noticing and asking." Tony shoved a taco in his mouth. 

"Oh. I'm sorry, should we have sat inside? Or...is this why you go to fancy places?"

"Nah, it's a nice night. And I don't mind, really, when people are nice about it. As long as you don't mind."

Bruce smiled. "I guess I can share you, as long as they don't expect me to be anyone exciting."

"You are someone exciting!" 

"Well, don't tell them that."

"It'll be our secret." 

Tony really did hope that no one would bother Bruce. Luckily, most of the people who passed by Maria's were content to just stare and occasionally whisper to their friends, "That guy looks just like…" Tony took a few more selfies, but all in all, they had a fairly peaceful evening.

When they were completely stuffed with tacos, they took their empty trays back inside. Maria surprised them by running out from behind the counter. She took Tony's hand and told him something in urgent Spanish.

"Mas despacio, por favor?" Tony asked. He'd caught some words he recognized, "amigo" and "cuidarse" and "feliz" but he wasn't quite sure he got the intent.

Maria looked into his eyes and said, slowly, "Gracias por ser amigo de Bruce."

Tony smiled and said, "Es mi placer." 

Maria squeezed his shoulder.

Blushing, Bruce replied to Maria in Spanish and then told Tony, "This is kind of embarrassing. I usually come here alone, I mean, except for Veronica, and uh, I guess she's been kind of worried. She tried to set me up with her daughters a couple of times but, uh, it didn't take. Also I guess her nephew told her who you are, and she...well, she's happy to meet you." Tony casually reached out to take Bruce's hand as they walked out to Bruce's car. It warmed his heart to know that other people were looking out for Bruce.

"Thanks for coming tonight," Bruce said. "I'm sorry it's not what you're used to…"

"Bruce, it was better, I swear. The food was great and the company was even better."

"And I didn't know Maria was going to...well, like I said, I'd been eating there a long time and she's always been really sweet to me, but I didn't mean for her to...."

"I couldn't be more delighted to know you have earned the allegiance of your local taco lady. I promise."

"Okay," Bruce said reluctantly.

"Hey. If you want a taste of how glamorous my life _isn't_...would you want to be my plus one for this gala thing I have to go to?"

"A _gala thing_?" 

"It's for, uh, it's this organization called NAARC, which is actually hilarious. It stands for something about addiction recovery...coalition? Anyway, uh, they're giving me an award, so I'm supposed to go give a speech...it will be _extremely_ boring and it will help you to understand how truly delightful an evening at a taqueria is in comparison."

"Will there be, um, a lot of people?"

"I doubt it. It's hardly the Met Gala. And we could leave whenever you wanted, I promise. I'd honestly love an excuse to leave early."

"I...well, I would like to see your speech," Bruce said.

"So you'll come?"

"When is it?"

"It's December 3rd. So, you know, it's not a date. Just a friendly plus one for a charity event. It's black tie. Pepper would love nothing more than to help you arrange something to wear."

"Oh, would she?"

"She would," Tony promised. "And I would love nothing more than to provide feedback on your wardrobe choices. As a helpful friend."

"Oh, thank you," Bruce said drily. "So you're trying to tell me that what I have on now wouldn't be appropriate?"

"Yeah, see, when it's black tie you actually have to wear a _black_ bow tie, other colors aren't acceptable. And you're really strongly encouraged to not wear Crocs."

"I was gardening earlier! And they're comfortable," Bruce protested. "God, you're sure you want _me_ to come with you?"

"Yes," Tony replied instantly. "Please."

"Well...since you said 'please.' And since I happen to know that my calendar is completely free on December 3rd, I guess I accept your invitation."

"Yay! Oh, Bruce, it'll be so boring, you'll see."

"Wow, I can't wait." Bruce's tone was dry, but his smile was sincere. Tony's mind raced with ideas; if Bruce was really going to be there to watch his speech, Tony wanted to make sure it was worth hearing. Maybe he'd write something out instead of winging it like he usually did for those things. Luckily, Bruce made an adorable muse.


	19. I Could Build a Castle Out of All the Bricks They Threw At Me

Cheer Up, Tony Stark!

A reader submitted this candid photo of Tony Stark in tears outside a taqueria in Ojai. What's causing Tony's tears? Is a relapse of his addiction to narcotics on the horizon, or is his handsome date (identified as Bruce Banner, the reclusive and unstable author of the Gamma Garcia series) to blame? Stark, 41, has been largely out of the public eye for the last year, but before he entered rehab he was, of course, known for his brief, dramatic flings with models and actors of all genders--which usually ended with the other party in tears as Stark moved on to his next conquest. If you have any information about the relationship between Stark and Banner, please email tips@gossipcop.com !

* * *

Hi. My name is Tony, and I'm an addict, and a formerly extremely functional alcoholic. (pause for laughter/applause) I want to thank the National Alliance for Addiction Recovery Coalition for this honor tonight. But more than that, I want to thank everyone who kept me going until I could reach this point. I want to thank Dr. Stephen Strange, who patched my body back together and who, for the record, did warn me that those narcotic painkillers were addictive. I just didn't think those rules would apply to me...turns out they do. I want to thank my fearless personal assistant and dear friend, Pepper Potts, as well as the other members of my household staff, Anna and Edwin Jarvis and Happy Hogan, all of whom worked very hard to make my home a safe place for my recovery. I want to thank Sam Wilson and the rest of the staff at the Fresh Start Rehabilitation Center, who gave me a, well, fresh start, and to Jane Foster for helping me continue the work I started with Sam. Thank you to my publicist, James Rhodes, who has put out a _lot_ of the fires my drunk ass started over the years, and still manages to be the best friend a guy could ask for. And finally, I want to thank Bruce Banner, whose beautiful books inspired me to keep going even when I wanted to quit, and whose friendship I treasure.

So...that's a lot of people I just thanked, and if you crunch the numbers you'll find that I have to pay most of them. Quite a lot of money, really, just to make me _not_ do something. And I'm lucky, I'm so lucky that I can afford that, and that I have all of these people who are so supportive and so willing to go above and beyond the call of duty for me, and it's thanks to those people that I can stand here in front of you and proudly say that I've been sober for 11 months. (pause for applause)

The thing that I've learned the most from my 11 months of sobriety is that I'm not special. For years, I thought that I was. Sure, _most_ people shouldn't start their morning with so many shots of whiskey in their morning coffee, but it's fine for me, because I'm special. Sure, there's a recommended schedule for taking your painkillers, but my pain is special. But, no, I'm not special, I'm just another addict like so many others. And the reason I've been able to recover the way I have so far isn't because I'm special, it's just because I'm extremely rich. 

But I know that not everyone is as fortunate as I am. And I hate knowing that there are people out there who are struggling, who just need the same access to support that I have, and that is why I have started the Stark Foundation. This foundation will serve to provide access to addiction recovery support for anyone who needs it, whether this comes in the form of inpatient rehab, therapy sessions to address an underlying cause of addiction, or just a babysitter so a single parent can attend an AA meeting. We will also support the family members of those affected by addiction, in whatever way we can.

Our mission is to help fill gaps left by other nonprofits who are already doing important work in this field. I want everyone to have the same chance at success and happiness that I've been given, and I know that the professionals represented by the NAARC are going to be a big part in helping other people find their second chances.

Thank you all. I raise this glass of ginger ale to you.

* * *

Bruce, who looked incredible in the tuxedo Pepper had helped him acquire, squeezed Tony's hand and whispered, "Congratulations, Tony. That was a great speech."

Tony smiled and squeezed Bruce's hand back. He leaned even closer to reply, "Thanks. I meant all of it, especially the part about how I wouldn't be here without you."

Bruce shook his head slightly. "I think you'd get by. And I think you're wrong about one other thing."

"Oh?"

"You _are_ special, Tony. I--I mean, I get the point you were trying to make, and all, but...you're so special."

Bruce looked deeply into Tony's eyes as he spoke, and Tony _really_ wanted to kiss him. But they were still waiting until December 23rd, and anyway Tony's breath tasted like the crab puffs he'd snagged from an hors d'oeuvres tray before he spoke. He settled for lightly tracing Bruce's knuckles with his thumb. "No, _you_ are," he said. 

Though he didn't want to voice this thought, he'd been thinking of Bruce and his family when he wrote his speech and made his plans; he couldn't help but wonder how Bruce's childhood might have been improved if his father had had the support to get sober. He knew he didn't have a time machine to change the past, but at least he could maybe change some other kids' futures.

Bruce laughed. "I guess you used up all your eloquence for the day with that speech, huh?"

"Ouch." Before Tony could formulate a better reply, a waiter came by to deliver Tony’s chicken piccata and Bruce’s quinoa bowl. Tony pulled away from Bruce to sit more squarely at the table, and immediately his neighbor on the other side began to engage with him. Tony fought a sigh and reminded himself that the point of these galas was to schmooze with other people, not just to gaze into Bruce’s eyes, no matter how captivating they were.

Tony glanced at the name card in front of his neighbor--Dr. Thomas Park, David Geffen School of Medicine at UCLA. He chewed his food while Dr. Park rambled through a long compliment of Tony’s speech, before getting around to what he really wanted. "...so our study is getting some really exciting results, but we would really benefit from some additional funding. It could help us have a larger sample size for a human trial."

Tony smiled politely and said, "You know, it sounds like you’re doing great work. I’m more of the big picture guy myself, but if you go on the Stark Foundation website and submit your proposal, I’ll be sure to follow up with my staff about it."

Dr. Park’s face lit up at Tony’s generic brush-off. "Really? Oh, that would mean the world to me. You know, it’s just so hard to get funding for addiction recovery projects--Big Pharma knows there’s no money here. People will pay for painkillers, but...it’s harder to profit off someone who’s _not_ taking them."

Tony nodded. He pulled out his phone to make a note to himself to actually follow up on Dr. Park’s proposal. It did sound like interesting research. 

Bruce turned to Dr. Park and quietly asked, "How do you find volunteers for your study?"

"We get referrals from clinics and homeless shelters in the area."

Bruce nodded. "And your volunteers all give informed consent?"

"Yes, of course!" 

"I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend."

Dr. Park shook his head. "No, of course you’re right to ask. Vulnerable populations are so often taken advantage of." He leaned over and looked at Bruce’s name card. "Oh! You’re Bruce Banner?"

"Yes," Bruce said warily. Under the table, Tony gently pressed his knee against Bruce’s in reassurance. 

"My kids and I are all huge fans of your books," Dr. Park enthused. "And that essay you published recently...so brave."

"Well, um, thank you," Bruce said. He looked down and shoved some quinoa in his mouth. 

"What else do you like to read, Dr. Park?" Tony asked, hoping to deflect attention from Bruce. 

"Ah...well, I don’t have too much time for reading, so most of what I read is just at my kids’ request. We’re in the middle of the Percy Jackson series now."

"You read out loud to them?"

"No, they’re a little old for that, but we have sort of an informal family book club. It gives us a lot to talk about. But the Gamma Garcia books are our favorites."

"That’s so nice to hear, thank you," Bruce mumbled, still looking down at his plate. 

"So--I’m so sorry, I just have to ask, my kids would never forgive me if I didn’t--are you working on any other books?"

Tony set down his fork and squeezed Bruce’s knee, hoping Bruce would communicate with him if he wanted to leave the conversation. Bruce gently put his hand over Tony’s and left it there. He didn’t seem particularly stressed. Veronica's head rested on Bruce's other knee.

Bruce said, "I, um, I’ve been working on a few things, but I’m not sure when anything will be ready to publish."

"Of course, of course. And I--like I said, I did read your essay and I appreciate all the other work you must have been doing over these past years," Dr. Park said earnestly. Bruce nodded. Tony exhaled. They made it through the rest of the meal with a relatively pleasant conversation about childhood favorite books. Tony was pretty sure that Bruce was enjoying it, or at least, not hating it.

Then Karina, NAARC's president, swooped by Tony's table. "Great speech, Tony, really. We're so thrilled you could join us tonight."

"Of course. It's an honor."

"Now, could I just borrow you for a second? There's someone I'd love to introduce you to."

Tony gave Bruce a questioning glance. Bruce replied with a small smile and nod.

"Sure, I'd love to," Tony said, forcing a smile. He knew that was what he was here for. And he knew he could do it. He was just worried about Bruce. But Bruce had Veronica, and he seemed to have befriended Dr. Park. 

The thing was, he did enjoy talking to the various donors and doctors Karina introduced him to. Tony liked to talk to people in general, and everyone here had very flattering things to say to him. He was only human, and he'd had a rough year, and it felt great to have people calling him brave and generous. So he'd ended up spending more time away from his seat than he'd meant to. He finally managed to excuse himself when waiters started bringing around dessert, and his heart instantly sank when he looked at Bruce.

"Welcome back, Tony," Bruce said. His voice was tight and his posture was rigid, no longer slouched over his meal. Tony knew he wasn't sitting next to Bruce any longer, but rather the Professor. 

"Heeey," Tony said. "Uh, what'd I miss? Sorry to stay away so long...I had a lot of very kind well-wishers."

A woman across the table from them smiled and said, "We've been talking about documentaries. Dr. Banner was just in the middle of telling us about one about space."

"Oh…" Tony said. As he looked around the table, he realized that everyone seemed fairly relaxed. The Professor was definitely Bruce's most socially adept alter...maybe no one had noticed? But how was that possible? Bruce's whole manner of being was different: his posture, his tone, the look in his eyes...maybe nobody else was looking as closely at him as Tony did?

Bruce calmly said, "Yes. Of course the BBC's Planet Earth series was breathtaking, but they also did Wonders of the Universe and Wonders of the Solar System, which are fascinating."

"Oh, yeah, I saw part of that," Tony said. Bruce had shown him the episode that was ostensibly about aliens. He'd been disappointed by the lack of aliens in it. "Ice on Europa, extremely cool, right?"

"Very cool indeed," Bruce agreed. "About negative 160 degrees Celsius." The table broke out in laughter at the science wordplay. Bruce smiled and took a bite of his strawberry tart. Tony shrugged and decided they might as well stick around awhile longer, though he kept a wary eye on Bruce in case things started to go south. But they never did; the nerds at their table seemed to genuinely enjoy the Professor's insights. (And in turn, the Professor seemed to like all of them more than he liked Tony. Which was frankly a little hurtful, but at least Bruce seemed content.)

After the event wound down for the night, Tony finished up his networking with a tight smile and escorted Bruce and Veronica out to the car. 

Once they were on the highway, Tony cleared his throat and said, "Hey, I didn't want to ask in there, but...what happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you're here now, instead of, you know, Bruce. Did something happen to upset him?"

The Professor let out a harsh laugh, so different from Bruce's shy laugh; Bruce's laugh always gave the impression that he was pleasantly surprised to be laughing. "Nothing happened to Bruce. I was just interested in the conversation, so Bruce let me participate."

"Oh." 

"I know you don't like me, but _some_ people enjoy talking to me."

Startled, Tony said, "Of course I like you. You're part of Bruce. I just...he always seems so nervous about...changing. I didn't think he would do it voluntarily."

"Hmm," he replied. Then Bruce turned to him and said, "Tony?" 

Tony knew it was vain, but he just loved the way it sounded when Original Flavor Bruce said his name. "Bruce! I'm so sorry!"

"What happened?"

"I don’t know! I didn't mean to leave you for so long. I got pulled away to talk to some other people, and you seemed fine when I left, you had a new friend, Dr. Park, remember him?"

"Oh yeah. He was...nice."

"But then when I came back, um, you had shifted to the Professor, and I don't know what happened and I'm so sorry."

"No...no, I'm so sorry I embarrassed you, Tony."

"Bruce! You didn't. You could never embarrass me, no matter what. But...also...I don't think anyone else even noticed?"

"Hmm. Really?"

"Yeah, when I got back you were in the middle of a discussion about documentaries. You recommended that BBC space series to everyone. Just now I was talking to, uh, him, and he said that he was just interested in the conversation and wanted to participate, so you let him?"

"Oh. Yeah, I guess he would," Bruce said thoughtfully.

"Honestly, I would have had us leave earlier if you had seemed upset but it was just...really chill? But I'm so, so sorry."

"For what?"

"Well, I left you!"

"Yeah, I remember that part. I told you it was fine! You didn't need to spend the whole night babysitting me."

"It's not _babysitting_. I'd rather spend time with you."

"Well. I'm glad. But still, of course you need to talk to other people. You were the guest of honor." He paused before asking, "You really don't think anyone noticed? Please don't lie to protect my feelings."

"I'm not! I really don't think anyone did. Everyone knew I was there with you, I think they would have pulled me aside and said something. And the rest of the time I was with you, he was...fine. I mean, I...I can tell, because your whole...your body language changes so much. But maybe it's not so obvious to someone who hasn't spent as much time with you as I have. He kept up a conversation just fine, though."

"Hmm. Yeah, I know he's capable of that kind of thing," Bruce mused. "Well, I guess it's really not so different from how you handle social interactions."

"What do you mean?"

"I--I mean, you have kind of your public facing version of yourself, the one who's always so...shiny."

Tony laughed. "I'm not sure I've ever been called 'shiny' before." (In fact, he was pretty diligent about using matte powder whenever he knew he was going to be on film, though he knew that wasn't what Bruce meant.)

"I--I mean it as a compliment," Bruce said shyly. "You're so--I mean, you're like a magnet, nobody can look away from you. You're always smiling, always have the right thing to say. Or--or at least the most interesting thing to say. And it's amazing to watch. But then there's, you know, who you are in private. Who you are right now. You switch back and forth, too, it's just...that you don't get short-term amnesia when you do it."

"Hmm," Tony said. What Bruce said made sense, but his main takeaway was, "Wait, are you saying I'm not shiny right now?"

Bruce laughed. "Of course you are. It's just...maybe...a lower intensity. A little less polished. I--I like it. But anyway, so...it makes sense that if the conversation called for it...I might change."

"I'm just so sorry," Tony repeated.

"Tony! What I'm trying to say is...it was fine. It, actually...uh, my therapist and I have been working toward this for a long time, I mean, toward me being able to do something like...go to a party. And I've been so afraid of shifting in public, and just getting stuck in these anxiety loops about what would happen if...if I ended up shifting to Hulk again, and just doing something destructive or...embarrassing...but it turns out that I shifted and nobody even noticed." Bruce let out a surprised little laugh. "Besides you."

Tony smiled. "God, you're incredible, Bruce. Thank you so much for coming with me tonight."

"Thank you for inviting me. It's not every day I get to be the date of the guest of honor."

"Hey now, you know it hasn't been a year yet, so you weren't my date...you were my plus one. My extremely handsome, sweet, smart, plus one. Or, um, plus two, I guess."

Bruce laughed. "Tony, I, uh...I'm really looking forward to December 23rd."

"Yeah. Me too. But today was pretty good anyway." 

They passed the rest of the drive back talking more about their favorite documentaries, though this time Bruce didn't give the Professor a chance to speak. Tony loved hearing Bruce's insights. He knew so much about so many things, and his throaty voice sounded so good talking about those things.

When they made it back to Tony's house, they both agreed there was no sense in Bruce driving back up to Ojai at that hour. Tony walked Bruce and Veronica back to Bruce's guest room and wished them both sweet dreams. He lingered in the doorway and enjoyed the view of Bruce in his tux one last time, regretting that he wouldn't be able to help Bruce remove it. Thankfully, their agonizing wait was almost over. There were only a few more weeks until Tony's first year of sobriety was complete, and then he could start living the rest of his life with Bruce by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BTW, in case you were wondering, avoiding new romantic relationships during one's first year of sobriety is a [generally (though not universally) accepted rule of thumb](https://health.usnews.com/wellness/articles/2017-02-13/why-newly-sober-alcoholics-and-addicts-shouldnt-date-for-a-year). Counting down until the exact day is Bruce and Tony being extra, though.


	20. Got Back the Stars in My Eyes

Tony,

Everything's all set for the 22nd. I'll forward the confirmation email. Jarvis put together a box in the main kitchen fridge. This is the most romantic thing I've ever heard. I can't wait to hear how it goes! 

<3 Pepper

PS The Christmas gift you asked me to order for myself arrived. It's extremely tasteful as usual, thank you.

* * *

Tony was trying to pay attention to the documentary Bruce had picked out to watch after dinner, but he was too excited to focus. He kept trying to discreetly check his watch, unable to believe how slowly the time was going. They'd arbitrarily decided that Tony's year of sobriety would end at midnight, and as far as Bruce knew, they were spending the hours until then watching movie's in Tony's screening room.

"I'm sorry if this isn't your cup of tea. We can put something else on if you want," Bruce said softly.

"No! No, it's great, I'm just...a little distracted."

Bruce smiled. "Do you remember the first time I came over to your house?"

"Of course. New Year's Eve. God, I was such a wreck then. And I was so happy you accepted my invitation."

"I was a wreck, too," Bruce said. "It had been so long since I...well, did anything, really. Anything outside of my usual routine." Tony reached over and squeezed Bruce's hand. Bruce continued, "And I...I didn't really understand why you'd want to spend time with me, and when no one else was there I couldn't tell if it was supposed to be a date, except why would you want to date someone like me?"

"I could give you about a million reasons."

Bruce squeezed Tony's hand back. "Anyway, I--I kept wondering if you were going to try to kiss me at midnight. And I kept wondering if I wanted you to. And then we got so caught up in the movie that we didn't even realize it was the new year until it was after 1am."

"And then I fell asleep on you," Tony remembered with a groan. "I was trying so hard not to do anything to upset you. But I was so tired and and I just felt so...comfortable with you. Even though we'd really just met."

"Anyway, today I feel kind of that same way."

"Like you're not sure if you want me to kiss you at midnight?" Tony asked with raised eyebrows. Of course he'd wait longer if that's what Bruce wanted...but he really hoped that wasn't what Bruce wanted.

"No, I--I definitely want that," Bruce said with a shaky laugh. "I just mean...I'm excited. And nervous."

"Me too," Tony admitted.

"Why are _you_ nervous?" Bruce asked, surprise evident in his voice.

"I...I don't want to fuck this up."

"No, Tony, if anyone's going to fuck this up, it's me."

"Absolutely not," Tony said indignantly.

Veronica, who was lazing at Bruce's feet, looked up with interest at Tony's sharpened tone.

Bruce laughed. "Easy, V," he said, stroking her head. "Anyway, I saw in the tabloids that I made you cry in public. So I'm already fucking things up."

"That's true actually, it was completely your fault for not preventing me from stealing your absurdly spicy food. Uh, and I'm sorry, by the way, that they had your name and said...that stuff...Rhodey's been working on some restraining orders and stuff, to protect you from that kind of thing."

"Oh. Thank you, I appreciate that. See, you won't fuck this up." 

"It won’t be a hundred percent," Tony warned. "But it’ll help."

"I do have my own excellent legal team, you know. I’m not going to let some hack reporters wreck the best thing that’s ever happened to me."

"You know what, let's agree that if anyone's going to ruin our relationship, it's probably Veronica," Tony said.

"She's a real troublemaker," Bruce agreed, in the sweet tone he reserved for talking to Veronica. "Aren't you, Veronica?"

Tony smiled. "Well, I'm glad we've got such an adorable scapegoat lined up for all of our future problems."

"It's one of the many things service dogs are trained for."

"I mean, how can you stay mad at that face?" Tony asked, though he was looking at Bruce's face when he said it.

Bruce smiled and checked his watch. "I can't believe it's not even 9pm yet. We have almost four hours. Are you sure you don't have a time machine?"

"Still no," Tony said with sigh. "But I _do_ have a surprise for you." Tony hadn't been counting down to midnight. He had a slightly earlier endpoint, and it was approaching.

"Oh?" Bruce asked cautiously.

"I know, I know you don't love surprises, but this is a good one, I promise."

"Okay. I...trust you."

"Good." Tony turned off the movie and said, "Get your shoes and jacket. And Veronica's service vest."

"Oh...kay?" 

"Bruce, I swear, you'll like it. There aren't going to be any other people, we just need to pass through a public space for like, three seconds and I don't want anybody to hassle you."

"Okay," Bruce repeated, more confidently.

"Meet me in the garage. I'm just going to get a few things."

"Should I change clothes? I didn't dress for anything…"

Tony took in Bruce's soft corduroy pants and well-worn Oxford shirt with a fond smile. "You're dressed perfectly. You could even wear your Crocs if you want."

Bruce smiled back, and Tony dashed off to the kitchen, where he gathered up the stuff Jarvis had left for him and placed it all into an insulated tote. Then he met Bruce at the entrance to the garage.

"What's in the bag?"

"It's part of the surprise!"

"I suppose it's not worth asking where we're going?"

"You'll find out when we get there," Tony said smugly.

Bruce sighed, but followed Tony into the car without complaint. Tony played classic rock and tried to keep his thoughts from spiraling too far out of control. He knew everything would go according to plan, thanks to Pepper. 

As they got closer, Bruce cautiously asked, "Are we going to the Hollywood sign?"

"Nope! What are we, tourists?"

Tony turned onto the road that wound around the canyons to their destination.

Bruce tilted his head. "Griffith Observatory? Won't it be closed?"

"Mm-hmm, it closes to the public at 10pm. But it just so happens to be reserved for a private event tonight."

Tony pulled into the near-empty parking lot with a smug smile.

"You reserved Griffith Observatory for a private event for just us?" Bruce asked quietly.

"I mean, unless there's someone else you want to invite…"

Bruce laughed. He took Tony's hand as they hiked up the short trail from the parking lot to the observatory. Veronica walked ahead of them. "I can't think of anyone."

The night was seasonably chilly for LA, but not unpleasant, especially with the exertion of the uphill hike warming their bodies. 

"How are you doing?" Bruce asked. "Physically, I mean."

"Pretty good," Tony replied, although he was definitely feeling the uphill climb. "I think doing all that yoga with you really helps."

"I'm glad."

Once Tony’s slow and steady pace made it to the observatory entrance, a bored employee gave them a rundown of rules and then let them loose.

"I feel bad that people have to work here just for us," Bruce said.

Tony shrugged. "They're being well paid for less work than when they have a regular after hours event. We're supporting a non-profit cultural landmark and giving their employees a holiday bonus."

"Well, when you put it like that..." Bruce smiled. "Let's go check out the telescope!"

Money was essentially meaningless to Tony, but when he saw how starry Bruce's eyes were, he knew every penny he'd spent on planning this night was worth it. Plus, he really should give Pepper another raise for all the work she’d done in persuading the Observatory that an event like this didn’t really conflict with their organization’s policies.

"When I was a kid, I came here a few times with Jen. I was so excited to see it, but...it was so crowded," Bruce said wistfully. "It made me too nervous to really enjoy it."

"Well, tonight it's all ours." 

While Bruce excitedly fiddled with the huge telescope, Tony set about unpacking his bag out on the balcony that overlooked the city. He spread a blanket on the floor and then laid out the spread he'd asked Jarvis to put together: kombucha, sparkling grape juice, strawberries, and chocolate. He kept the food covered--Veronica was very good about not eating on the job, but still, he was really not looking for this evening to end at the animal hospital. He took a moment to enjoy the view of the city. He didn't often feel romantic about Los Angeles, but he knew he couldn't have had this moment anywhere else.

He came back into the telescope room and Bruce excitedly beckoned him over. "Tony, come look, I found a comet!" 

Tony looked through the telescope and observed the glowing object. Bruce stood behind him. He rested his hand on Tony's back and whispered, "Isn't it beautiful?"

"It really is." Tony had thought it would move more quickly through the sky, but maybe that was just in the movies. It was still impressive that Bruce had found it. Bruce was so smart and Tony loved him so much. 

They took turns at the telescope, as Bruce found celestial objects and shared them with Tony. Tony did enjoy the views of the sky, but he enjoyed Bruce's enthusiasm even more. Tony found Bruce's shyness endearing, but he also loved it when Bruce was able to speak with confidence like the genius he was.

Finally, at half til midnight, Tony said, "I have something else to show you," and he pulled Bruce away from the telescope to the outdoor picnic on the balcony.

"Oh my god, Tony, wow. This is so…"

"You like it?" 

"No one has ever done anything like this for me before."

"Hmm. On one hand, that's too bad, because it's what you deserve. On the other hand, I'm glad nobody else took my first date idea before I had the chance." Bruce gave a small, disbelieving laugh and sat down on the blanket, with Veronica at his feet. Tony carefully settled next to him and slipped an arm around his shoulders. "I mean it, you know."

Bruce leaned against Tony and said, "This doesn't feel real."

"If it were a dream, I would have kissed you already, instead of painfully waiting the last few minutes for this arbitrary deadline we set for ourselves."

"I've never even had a dream this good," Bruce said softly.

Tony twisted and kissed Bruce on the cheek. "I know it’s not midnight yet, but that’s doesn’t count. That wasn't a real kiss, it was just a Euro-trash greeting. Also I couldn't help it. You're just too cute."

Bruce bumped his head against Tony's shoulder and sighed.

Tony carefully reached out for the strawberries and chocolate. "We should eat these. It'll hurt Jarvis's feelings if we don't."

"Plus we still have some time to kill," Bruce said. Then he inhaled sharply as Tony held a berry up to Bruce's mouth. After a moment's hesitation, he took a bite. They took turns feeding each other. It was silly and sweet and Tony never wanted to eat any other way. 

Then, _finally_ , his phone chimed with the alarm he had set and he asked, "Bruce? As a person who has officially been sober for 365 days and is of the requisite sound mind...and relatively sound body...to make such requests...and also as a person who happens to be madly in love with you...could I kiss you now?"

In response, Bruce smiled. He turned and cupped Tony's cheeks with his hands, then leaned in and gave Tony a sweet, hesitant kiss, barely longer than the quick peck they'd shared months ago, after they first confessed their feelings to each other. He pulled away with a soft sigh and looked at Tony with a slightly dazed expression; an expression that Tony was pretty sure his own face mirrored.

"I love you too. I can't believe I'm so lucky," Bruce breathed.

Tony shook his head. "I'm the lucky one," he said. He leaned in close to Bruce again, careful to let Bruce set the pace. Bruce put his arms around Tony's neck, gazing at him for another moment before closing the gap between them for a more urgent kiss. Bruce tasted like strawberries and smelled like a walk in the woods. He wondered what cologne Bruce wore, or if Bruce just spent so much time outside that he’d somehow acquired its scent. Whatever the source, it was intoxicating.

Bruce grew more confident as they went on, eventually pulling up to straddle Tony's lap. Veronica retreated to lie on a far edge of the blanket, giving the humans their space.

"Is this okay?" Bruce asked breathlessly as he shifted his weight to press up against Tony. 

"It's better than okay."

"I mean--I mean I don't want to hurt you. Your back..."

Tony was touched, though not surprised, at Bruce's thoughtfulness in the face of pleasure. "This is the opposite of hurt, believe me." His back probably _would_ feel sore later, but that was a price he was more than willing to pay.

"Well. Just let me know if you want me to move." 

Tony grinned and took Bruce's face in his hands. Bruce had clearly shaved earlier that day; Tony liked the way it looked when Bruce had a little stubble, but he also liked the smooth feel of his skin now. "Nah, I think you'd better stay right where you are." He gave Bruce a long, hungry kiss. When they pulled apart to catch their breath, they both started to speak. Tony laughed. "You go."

"I just wanted to say that this was worth waiting for," Bruce said softly.

Tony melted a little inside, even as he replied, "I was going to say, I can't believe we waited so long when we could have been doing this this whole time!"

Bruce smiled and shook his head. His eyes were soft and his lips were swollen. "I don't think we could have been...I don't think it would have been the same, if we hadn't gotten to know each other first. It's better that we waited."

Tony smiled back. "I guess you're right. It's pretty novel for me to be completely and utterly aware of how incredible the person I'm kissing is. But I could get used to it."

"I don't think I could ever get used to this," Bruce said. He leaned forward and rested his forehead against Tony's. "How much longer can we stay here?"

"Until 1am. We’ve got a little bit of time left...if you want to see anything else through the telescope?" Tony teased.

Bruce laughed. "I had something else in mind," he said, bringing his lips back to Tony’s. 

"Mm," Tony agreed enthusiastically. He couldn't remember the last time he'd enjoyed just kissing someone so much. Bruce was no longer tentative. He kissed Tony with the same sincerity and dedication he brought to his writing. Bruce kissed Tony like the fate of the moon depended on it; Tony clung to Bruce like he had the last oxygen filter on the space shuttle.

Tony had set an alarm to remind them when their time was nearly up--mostly because he thought Bruce would be embarrassed if a security guard had to interrupt them. That was also the reason he'd kept his pants on. If it were up to him...well, being caught naked at Griffith Observatory wouldn't even make the top 10 list of most awkward moments in Tony's life. But Tony really didn't think Bruce would appreciate that kind of public fallout, so they kept it PG-13. Besides, Tony had waited a whole year for this moment, he could wait a few more hours. Probably. 

Tony sighed when his phone went off with its closing time reminder. "So I have to say I think this date went pretty well…"

"No disagreement from me."

"...but there is one major flaw in my plan, which is that it's like an hour's drive home. To where the bed is."

"Well, the way you drive it's probably more like 40 minutes. Maybe 30, at this time of night," Bruce said, with a sly smile. He was still straddling Tony's lap, and Tony could tell that Bruce was just as ready to remove his pants as Tony was.

Tony grinned back and pulled Bruce in for one last kiss. "Let's get started, then."

They hurriedly packed up the remnants of their picnic and made their agonizing descent back down to the parking lot. When they finally got to the car, Tony did, in fact, make record time back to Malibu, where the rest of the night proved to be more than worth the wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you were wondering: [Griffith Observatory is where they dance in the stars in La La Land](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m5zdEQHuxOY). Also, fun fact: [more people have looked through its Zeiss telescope than any other telescope in the world](http://www.griffithobservatory.org/exhibits/zeiss_telescope.html)! 
> 
> Anyway, hey, that slow burn finally caught fire! Thanks so much to everyone who's been patiently waiting for this. I really appreciate all the kind comments and kudos this story has gathered along the way ♥ 
> 
> And yes, there are still 2 more chapters yet to come! Probably with even more kissing! Who can say for sure? 
> 
> Oh wait...I can. :-*


	21. Your Love Is My Drug

Bruce,

This drafting process has been a little unconventional, but I think this attached version should be to everyone's satisfaction. Let me know if you have any questions for now. After you've had a chance to talk about it, I can make any changes you or Tony might request. (Or more likely, Tony will have Murdock do it.)

Hope you're doing well, but I guess we can make small talk in person at dinner on Wednesday. See you then.

Nat

* * *

Nat,

This looks great! Thank you so much. Please don't mention this to Tony until I've had a chance to talk to him about it.

Thanks,

Bruce

* * *

Bruce,

Not a problem. You know I talk to Tony as little as possible.

Nat

* * *

Thanks to their months as trauma-induced roommates, Tony had already woken up next to Bruce more times than he had with anyone else--he was used to having Pepper discreetly eject his one night stands, or to simply leaving a hotel room and never returning. But with Bruce it had always been different. They'd already been so intimate with each other in other ways that he hadn't expected the morning after their first date to be much different than previous mornings they'd shared. He was surprised by the fluttery feeling he got when he looked over and saw Bruce beside him.

Tony propped himself up on his elbow to get a better look. Like usual, Bruce slept on his side, curled into a fetal position. But the sheets were tangled around his waist and he'd shed his usual adorably modest pajamas, so now Tony could see the small, faint scars on his back, undoubtedly souvenirs from his father. Tony gritted his teeth and made himself take deep breaths; his anger would serve no purpose here. Instead, he reached out a hand to gently stroke Bruce's back. Bruce sighed and stretched. He rolled over and gave Tony a sleepy smile. His voice even huskier than usual, he said, "Good morning."

"Hey. Can I kiss you?" Now that the yearlong wait was up, Tony didn't want to waste any more time _not_ kissing Bruce.

Bruce pushed himself up to face Tony and kissed him softly. Then he pulled back and said, "Sorry if I have morning breath."

"Hmm. I didn't notice, but let me kiss you again to check." Bruce laughed but obliged. Tony pulled away and said, thoughtfully, "I'm pretty sure your breath is fine but I just need some more samples for my study."

Bruce shook his head with a smile and gently pushed Tony down so he was lying on his back. Bruce rested his head on Tony's bare chest and idly traced a scar with his finger. Since his fall and the resultant surgeries, Tony's body had become a mess of scars, much fresher and more prominent than Bruce's faded ones.

Tony coughed and said, "I used to look a lot better without my shirt on."

Bruce laid his hand flat on Tony's chest and said, "You look beautiful."

"You're so sweet." Tony leaned forward to plant a kiss on top of Bruce's head, amidst his unruly curls. "I love you." He didn't think he'd ever get used to being able to say that out loud to Bruce.

"I love you too," Bruce replied. "And I mean it...you're the most good-looking person I've ever seen in real life. And the scars...the scars are what kept you here. They saved your life. How could they be anything but beautiful?" He briefly traced another scar, then paused to add, "But I understand if you'd rather I not touch them. I'm sorry."

Tony thought for a moment and said, "No, it's okay. I'm just...well, nobody has really touched or even seen them except for in a medical capacity. It's just...new."

"Hmm," Bruce replied. Then he bent down and began planting feather-light kisses along Tony's scars. Tony gasped and squirmed; the scar tissue was sensitive, but not unpleasantly so. He twined his fingers in Bruce's hair.

As an adult, Tony had never before gone a whole year without having sex, and he had feared that sex might be awkward after his year of sober celibacy, And maybe it would have been with someone else. Or maybe it still was a little awkward with Bruce, but it didn't matter, because they both felt a little shy and unsure, so it all balanced out. They were able to talk and laugh and figure everything out together.

He had to say, they’d figured it out incredibly well. Tony’s body felt so sensitive, aroused by even the lightest touch, like it was his first time. And he’d never been more turned on by anything than he was by the sounds he could coax out of the usually-quiet Bruce. Sex with Bruce had been worth the wait, but he was definitely glad that the wait was over. (And he was beyond glad he wouldn’t have to wait a year for another round.)

After they were both sated for the time being, Tony took his turn to rest his head on Bruce's chest. He loved Bruce's very un-Hollywood body: he was strong (not to mention _very_ flexible) from all of his yoga and such, but he also had a soft little belly, perfect for snuggling. Bruce had clearly never spent a minute with a personal trainer, sculpting pointless extra muscle. For that matter, he'd never touched an ounce of body wax, either. Tony idly stroked Bruce's dense, greying chest hair. "You're so soft, Bruce, like you're already wearing your Christmas sweater."

"Do I really have to wear that, by the way?"

"You really do," Tony said gravely. "Or you can't have any of Jarvis's French silk pie. I don't make the rules, Bruce. Actually maybe I did make this one. The point is, you have to wear the sweater, it's tradition, and there's simply nothing to be done about it. Speaking of which, I suppose we should get ready. In a minute." Despite having made the pronouncement, he made no move to remove himself from Bruce's chest. He reached up and traced a hickey he’d left on Bruce’s throat. He supposed it was primitive of him, but he loved seeing it, a little way to mark his territory. 

Finally, Bruce said, "Sorry, Tony, but I really should take Veronica out."

"Oh, shit, of course." Tony sat up and planted a quick kiss on Bruce's forehead. Tony had to pee, too, but he'd been trying to hold it in to avoid disrupting the moment. But now that the moment was over, he strolled briskly to the bathroom, while Bruce pulled on yesterday's clothes and took Veronica out.

When Bruce and Veronica came back from their quick walk, Tony said, "I'm going to shower, you want to join me?" Bruce hesitated, and Tony said, "Or you can use your bathroom down the hall." At some point, that particular suite had ceased to be a guest room and simply become Bruce's room.

Bruce licked his lips and said, "I--Tony, another time, I'd love to join you, but I just--I know this afternoon is going to be...well, I just could use a little time alone, and I think showering by myself would be a good break? It's nothing personal. You know that, right?"

Tony forced himself to remember things Pepper and Jane had told him about introverts. He reminded himself that it was hard and important for Bruce to express his feelings. He smiled and said, "Yes, of course. I'm glad you said something."

"Thanks, Tony," Bruce said, with evident relief. 

"Take your time...just remember to put on your sweater when you get ready."

Bruce smiled and shook his head. "How could I forget?"

Tony took a long near-scalding shower. He was pleasantly sore after his long night with Bruce and the hot water felt amazing, even without Bruce to share it with. When he finally pried himself out of the water, he towelled off and carefully groomed his hair and goatee. When he came out of the bathroom, Bruce and Veronica were already lounging on the couch in Tony's bedroom. Bruce was wearing his new, bright green, Yoda-themed Christmas sweater. Tony beamed at the sight.

"Green is definitely your color," he said. "It really brings out your eyes."

"That towel looks very good on you," Bruce replied.

Tony laughed and struck a pose before he pulled on dark jeans and a tank top. Finally, he finished the look with his Darth Vader Christmas sweater.

Bruce cleared his throat and said, "Um, Tony, I noticed this in the mirror, is it going to...be a problem?" He pointed at the hickey that prominently stuck out above the collar of his sweater. The sight of it gave Tony a fresh burst of possessive lust, as he fondly remembered giving it to Bruce. 

"It’s definitely going to be a problem," Tony replied with a smirk. "I don’t know how I’m going to get through this dinner without ripping that sweater off and giving you more of those on the other side."

Bruce blushed, which didn’t do anything to reduce Tony’s desire. Tony sat down on the couch and planted a light kiss over Bruce’s hickey. But Bruce persevered and said, "I just mean...uh, I think there are going to be people at this dinner who I haven’t met before, and I’d like to make a good first impression."

"I think you have met everyone, actually, and they all already adore you. Because how could they not? I am sorry Jen and Patsy couldn't make it this year, though." Bruce’s body language revealed that he was still uncomfortable, and Tony knew Rhodey would definitely tease them about it if he noticed, so Tony kissed Bruce’s cheek and said, "Be right back." 

Tony got a concealer stick from his bathroom and handed it to Bruce. "It's not quite your color, but it should work fine."

Bruce looked down at the proffered makeup, his brows furrowed. Over the years, Tony’s private life had led to the fun acquisition of a variety of marks--hickeys, bruises, scratches, love bites--that his public life required him to conceal; he remembered that Bruce’s adult life hadn’t had quite the same circumstances. 

"Here, let me." Tony took the concealer back and carefully covered up the mark on Bruce’s throat. Bruce craned his head to look down. Tony pulled out his phone and used the front-facing camera as a mirror. "See? All good."

"Thanks, Tony," Bruce said with evident relief. 

"Of course. But I’m still going to know it’s there," Tony said with a smug grin.

Bruce surprised him by grabbing Tony’s face and giving him a passionate kiss on the lips. "I’ll have to give you one to match."

"Yes, please!"

"...But after dinner."

"Mmm, can’t wait."

Bruce smiled shyly. "Should we get going?"

"Probably...oh, I almost forgot! I have something for you."

"I thought we agreed we weren't doing Christmas gifts!"

"Well...it's really for Veronica." Tony pulled open a drawer and produced a small, exquisitely wrapped package. 

Bruce carefully opened it, setting aside the paper. He opened the box and laughed when he saw a bright-green, dog-sized sweater. "Thanks, Tony. I'm sure she'll love it."

Tony watched with a smile as Bruce coaxed Veronica into the sweater. She gave Tony a baleful look, as though she knew exactly who was to blame for her current fashion predicament. "Oh, V, you look so festive," Bruce cooed. She rested her head on Bruce's lap.

Tony pulled out his phone and took a picture. Bruce looked up with surprise. "Sorry, I just...wanted to remember this."

"Just as long as you don't sell it to the tabloids. Veronica values her privacy."

"I would never want to disrespect Veronica," Tony said solemnly. "Okay. I think that was our last finishing touch. You ready?"

Bruce stood up. He looked down at his sweater, then back up at Tony with shining eyes. "Let’s go."

Tony put his arm around Bruce and guided him and Veronica to a formal dining room, where the table was already set and Tony's friends had begun to gather, mingling with glasses of virgin cranberry-ginger punch in their hands. 

"Wait," Tony said, and pointed up at the mistletoe hung over the open doorway to the dining room. 

Bruce laughed and leaned in for a soft kiss. 

Inside the dining room, their friends cheered. Bruce cleared his throat and said, "You know, I've been staying at your house for months and I've never been in this room."

"We don't use it much," Tony said. "Just for special occasions. Like when I need an excuse to kiss you." He gave Bruce another quick kiss before entering the dining room, where he picked up two glasses of punch and handed one to Bruce. Their friends were mostly standing around the punch bowl, but Happy, still recovering from his injuries, was seated at the dining room table.

"Hey Happy, need a refill?" Tony asked. He topped off Happy's glass of punch before he could reply.

"Thanks, boss," Happy replied.

"Just trying to make sure the service here is up to Lady Violet's standards, even though we do observe weekends around here. Good to have you back, man."

Happy grinned at Tony’s _Downton Abbey_ joke and replied, "Good to be back." Tony had encouraged Happy to take as much time off as he needed. But, like Tony, Happy started to get a little stir crazy when he had too much free time, so he'd been helping out whenever he could.

"Nice sweater," Nat told Bruce.

Bruce eyed her plain black sweater and said, with dignity, "I was told it wasn't optional."

Nat said, "It's black, like the coal Santa gives to naughty children."

Pepper smiled and kissed the top of Nat's head. "I love Nat's festive spirit. I--oh, oh my god, Veronica's wearing her sweater! Oh no, it's so cute!"

"Isn't it?" Tony asked. Veronica stoically endured everyone's admiration of her sweater.

Carol asked, "Where did you get it? Do they make them in cat sizes, too?"

"I don't know if Chewie's going to be as tolerant of that as Veronica is," Rhodey warned.

"Well, you know, you lose 100% of the shots you don't take," Carol said.

"I'll send you a link," Tony promised.

Then Jarvis called everyone to the table. They were having a proper Christmas dinner this year, instead of the In-N-Out Tony had so craved after rehab last year. He'd made sure that there were enough salads and side dishes that Bruce wouldn't go hungry without turkey.

After everyone was seated, Tony said, "Before we get started, I want to make a toast."

"Make it short, I want a dinner roll before they get cold," Nat said.

Tony smiled. "I will. I just wanted to thank all of you. I know there's no way I would have made it through the last year without each and every one of you here in this room." He raised his glass of punch and said, "So, thank you."

They clinked their glasses, and Pepper said, "Wait, me, too. Tony, congratulations on your first year of sobriety. I know it hasn't been easy for you, and I'm so, so proud of you. I know we all are."

They clinked their glasses again, and Rhodey said, "One more thing...Bruce, welcome, I'm so glad you could join us this year. I know your friendship has been great for Tony, and it looks like now he can finally stop pining, and I think we're all just very relieved about that."

Tony raised his glass along with everyone else, but he mumbled, "I wasn't _pining._ " Everyone except Bruce shook their heads and rolled their eyes. Bruce ducked his head and smiled at Tony.

Nat took a bite of her dinner roll. Then she swallowed, raised her glass once more, and said, "Oh, wait, I forgot, I wanted to toast to Bruce's sweater."

"A beautiful sentiment," Pepper said, clinking her glass.

"Well, uh, I guess I want to do one too, if I can?" Bruce asked. Tony smiled and nodded. "I just, um, wanted to thank all of you for being so welcoming to me. It...it means a lot to me. Thank you."

Tony looked at Bruce and squeezed his knee under the table.

"Oh god, I thought the pining was bad but now we've got this human heart eyes emoji at the table with us," Rhodey groaned.

Tony cheerfully flipped off Rhodey. But he remembered last year, when he was fresh out of rehab and painfully aware of being a 7th wheel among his happily paired-off friends. A little ribbing from Rhodey was a small price to pay for the pleasure of having Bruce by his side. (For Bruce's sake, he was glad he'd applied that concealer, though.)

"How come you don't look at me that way, babe?" Carol asked.

"I do! But we're in public, it's not decent," Rhodey said. He laughed and leaned forward to kiss her.

"This is a terrible precedent for dinner table behavior," Nat said. She shook her head and took a bite of salad. 

"Santa Claus _is_ watching," Pepper said gravely.

"He's technically always watching, even when you're sleeping, so…" Tony said, waggling his eyebrows at Nat.

"Gross," Nat replied. "Look, the thing is, you're all going to make me lose my appetite, and I know Jarvis and Anna have worked really hard on this beautiful meal."

"Natasha, since you asked so nicely, and not because I am afraid of you, I pledge to keep my dinner table behavior positively Victorian," Tony said. "Lady Violet would approve."

"Thank you for keeping your ankles to yourself," Nat said with a smirk.

" _Downton Abbey_ was actually in the Edwardian era," Happy said quietly.

They all enjoyed a delicious meal with only a moderate amount of ribbing each other. Tony was happy to see Bruce get involved--he had a sharp sense of humor once he came out of his shell, and it was especially satisfying to see his sass turned against Natasha.

At the end of the meal, they all lounged around the table for a long while, too full and happy to consider moving. But eventually, they started to part ways. Tony gave his friends hugs as they left for their own private celebrations, until only he and Bruce were left.

After Tony casually dragged Bruce under the mistletoe again, he asked, "So, what's next? Any holiday traditions you want to pursue? Promises were made about matching hickeys..."

Bruce smiled. "Um, I do have something else for you first."

"We said no gifts!" Tony said.

"It's not exactly a gift," Bruce said. "More of a business proposal, really."

"Oh?"

"Mm-hmm." Bruce gave Tony one last mistletoe kiss before taking his hand and leading him back to Bruce's bedroom. He sat down on the edge of his bed, pulled his laptop out of his bag and said, "I was going to print this but I figured it would be a waste of paper at this point. You can just read it here."

Tony settled next to Bruce and started reading the document that was open on the computer. After a few sentences, he understood what it was and gasped. "Bruce, are you sure?"

"I mean, I know you'll need to have Matt look it over and probably some of the details will need to be changed, but...yeah, I'm serious. I want you to make a Gamma Garcia movie. Well, I want to make it with you. I think...I think it could be really special."

Tony forced down his excitement to ask, "You're sure this is what you want?"

Bruce's face fell. "Isn't it what you want?"

"Of course! But I just...wanted to make sure you want it, too. And you're not doing it just to...just to make me happy?" Tony realized it sounded a little vain as he said it, but he also thought that it was the kind of thing Bruce might do, and he didn't want Bruce to end up resenting Tony once production started.

His tone serious, Bruce said, "I've thought about this a lot. The Gamma books are very important to me, Tony, and I wouldn't agree to something like this if I didn't really believe in the project, no matter how much I want to make you happy."

"Oh. Good."

"But...you are happy about it, though, right?" Bruce asked.

"Extremely."

Bruce rested his head on Tony's shoulder while Tony read through the contract. It was fair and thorough, as he'd expect from Nat's work. The terms she’d laid out obviously favored her client, which Tony had no quibbles with, although he thought Matt might. The contract established Bruce as an executive producer, consultant, and script adaptation co-writer. Tony’s favorite part was the option to make all five books into movies if the first one succeeded. (Which it obviously would.) He knew it was supposed to be a bad idea to mix business with pleasure, but he really didn't see how making a Gamma movie with Bruce could fail to be an improvement on the way his last creative partnership had turned out.

"Oh, Bruce, I'm so excited, I have so many ideas! Like, I was thinking it would be cool to show the flashback stuff in CGI animation, like it's being projected from Gamma's memory banks?"

"Oh, that could be interesting," Bruce said, with an approving hum.

Tony debated for a minute before deciding, "Actually, come with me to my office."

"Tony, we don't have to get started on this right now. We can...do other things."

"I know, I know, but I'm just really excited! We’ll just take a quick detour on the way to the bedroom." Bruce laughed and followed Tony's lead. In his office, Tony opened a drawer and pulled out a thick folder of all of the idle sketches and notes he'd accumulated over the last year, in the hopes that Bruce would eventually change his mind about a Gamma movie.

"Wow," Bruce said, raising his eyebrows at the tall stack of papers.

"I told you before, I just couldn't stop thinking about it!" Tony said sheepishly.

They stayed up late into the morning of Christmas Eve, poring over Tony's notes and beginning to outline their script, with a long break to thoroughly defile Tony’s office couch. Between the joy of future creative collaboration and the mark from Bruce’s mouth blooming over Tony’s collarbone as promised, Tony had never gotten better Christmas gifts.


	22. Even The Stars and the Moon Don't Shine Quite Like We Do

Review: Gamma Garcia and the Lunar Launch  
****/****

 _Gamma Garcia and the Lunar Launch_ had a lot of potential to end up as a complete trainwreck. (Or spaceshipwreck.) Adaptation of a beloved book? Check. Script co-written with the book's notoriously prickly author? Check. Directed and produced by Tony Stark, trying a new genre after his last film literally crashed and burned? Check. Complex space opera? Check. Largely unknown cast? Check.

And yet, I'm here to tell you that _Gamma Garcia and the Lunar Launch_ overcame all of these obstacles with aplomb. The script is sharp, the effects are stunning, and young actor Miles Morales, making his debut performance in the lead role, knocks it out of the park as the conflicted cyborg rebel Gamma Garcia. 

A family friendly movie that will also tug at adult heartstrings in a surprisingly non-cloying fashion, the perfect antidote to some of the other schlock released this holiday season. The only downside to be found here is the wait for the next installment of the franchise.

* * *

Tony and Bruce sat at the back of the theater, holding hands and watching the rest of the audience watch the premiere of their movie. Tony had known it was good, every step of the two years they'd spent making it, but now they were finally getting to experience the full fruits of their labor with an audience. 

"They really like it," Bruce whispered to Tony.

"They _love_ it."

"God, Miles is so good."

"You were so right about casting an unknown actor instead of trying to force some up and coming white kid into the role."

"I know. And _you_ were so right about those practical effects here! That lunar shuttle looks amazing."

"I know," Tony said. And then he leaned his head on Bruce's shoulder and got lost in the movie they'd made together. When the ending credits came up, the audience rose to their feet and applauded. It felt great, but he looked to see how Bruce was handling it. 

Bruce had been understandably nervous all day. Earlier, Tony had walked the red carpet solo so Bruce could slip in the side entrance to the theater unnoticed. Now, Bruce's smile was slightly shaky, but still present.

"How do you feel? You ready for the afterparty?" He tried to keep his tone neutral, like he wouldn't mind if Bruce just went home.

"I, uh, figured I'd at least make an appearance." 

"Good. Because you look frankly ridiculously hot in your tux and we've been sitting in the dark for two hours, I haven't even had a chance to look at you."

Bruce smiled and shook his head. "You saw me get ready. You rode over here with me. You've seen me."

Tony crossed his arms. "Well, not enough. But let's get out of here before we get trampled." Tony wrapped his arm around Bruce and followed Veronica, who wore a bow tie over her service vest, out of the theater and around the back to where Happy was waiting with the car.

In the quiet of the car, Bruce let out a relieved laugh. "We really did it!"

"Was there any doubt in your mind?"

"Yes, of course, literally every day. I have doubts in my mind all the time. About pretty much everything. You know that."

"Well...fair enough," Tony said. He leaned over to plant a kiss on his anxious partner’s smooth cheek. "But you knew the script we had, you saw the dailies. You knew this was going to be good."

Bruce nodded and exhaled. "I guess...when I write a book, obviously my editor participates and helps with what the final project will be. And the cover artist and the copy editor and all of those people. But ultimately, it doesn't _really_ change that much from when I turn in my manuscript and when it's published. And each reader has their own private experience with the book. And this was...so different from that. And I'm so glad we got to do this."

"And we get to keep doing it!"

Bruce turned and kissed him on the lips. "Yeah. We do. What's your call time tomorrow?"

"I gave everyone the day off, even me!" The trouble with adapting young adult novels was that the young adult actors kept growing, so the clock was ticking for them to get through the whole series with the same cast. They were already in pre-production for the next Gamma movie. Tony had been a little worried about how Bruce would handle the breakneck pace of moviemaking, but so far he seemed to be doing okay. 

Of course, Bruce didn't need to be quite as involved with the day-to-day of filming as Tony did, but he usually hung out on set anyway. Bruce spent most of his days squirreled away in their trailer with his laptop, emerging occasionally to chat with actors about character motivation or just to watch Tony at work. He also often bribed Tony to make sure he took his meal breaks, usually with offers either to read excerpts from his latest novel draft aloud while he ate, to guide him through a few yoga poses, or to provide...other favors. Tony had _never_ been more rigorous about union-mandated breaks on set.

Despite those pleasant breaks, making a film still required long hours of work from everyone, particularly the director. The premiere made for a nice break, even if it wasn't quite the full vacation Bruce and Tony both could use. Tony hoped they'd have a chance to steal away for a longer break soon.

Happy dropped them off at the entrance to Griffith Observatory. "Congrats, guys! Have a good night. Call me when you need me."

"Thanks, Happy!"

Hand in hand, Tony and Bruce walked into the Observatory, which had been made over for the party. The colorful lights and futuristic props called to mind the film's lunar setting perfectly. What better place could there be to celebrate the success of their space opera?

Pepper met them inside. She looked perfectly polished, in full-on event planner mode. She clutched a tablet in one hand, double-checking her notes as she surveyed tables of Gamma-themed food and beverages like suspiciously healthy green juice and re-invented astronaut ice cream. "Hey guys, how did the premiere go?"

"It was great!" Tony said.

Bruce nodded. He cast his eyes all around the hall and mumbled, "I think people liked it." He seemed very nervous, even for Bruce. Even though the only people in the hall right now besides the three of them were a handful of caterers and support staff. Tony squeezed his hand and mentally moved up his timeline for the evening. It didn't look like Bruce was going to last for very long at this event dedicated to celebrating the characters he'd created.

"People _loved_ it," Tony corrected.

"Of course they did," Pepper said warmly. "Well, I think we're all set here. I'm going to make sure they have the final guest list at the door."

"It looks perfect, Pep, thank you so much," Tony said.

"Yes, thank you," Bruce echoed. He sounded dazed.

Tony bit his lip and made an executive decision. "Hey, Bruce, I want to show you something before things get started in here. Come with me?"

"Of course."

Tony led Bruce out of the main building and to the round telescope room where they'd had their first real date, almost two years ago.

"I, uh, I thought the event was staying in the main hall?"

"The event is. But we have a little bit of time, and we technically rented the whole space. Here, come see." They stood on the balcony outside the telescope, overlooking the city and the Hollywood sign.

"It's a beautiful night," Bruce said. "Tony, I--"

"Wait, Bruce, I--I was going do to this later, but I just can't wait, and I--" he pulled a box out of his jacket pocket and carefully got down on one knee. His prepared speech forgotten, he said, "Bruce, I love you so much. Being with you makes me a better person--my best self. I think I've wanted to spend my whole life with you since the day we met, and I just...wondered if you'd make it official and marry me?"

He held out the ring--tasteful, small, made from conflict-free gold--and looked up at Bruce expectantly. Bruce stared down at him for a quiet, horrible moment and then burst out laughing.

"Bruce?" Tony asked, trying to keep the hurt out of his voice. He had debated with himself about whether or not Bruce would actually appreciate an old-fashioned proposal, but he ultimately decided that he couldn't miss this opportunity to declare his love. He hadn't expected it to be received _this_ badly.

Bruce leaned forward, bracing his hands on his thighs as he laughed. "Oh, Tony, I'm so sorry, yes, of course, of course I'll marry you, it's just--hold on." Tony watched as Bruce caught his breath and then pulled a small box out of his own pocket. He knelt down across from Tony and shyly offered him a ring. "I was so nervous, I had this whole speech written out, and--well--I just love you so much, Tony."

Tony laughed joyously now that he was in on the joke. He took the box from Bruce and smiled. "I accept."

"Thank god, it would have been really awkward otherwise."

"Way worse than showing up in matching dresses."

"I guess this was just a pretty irresistible opportunity, huh?" Bruce asked, gesturing out over the balcony.

" _You're_ a pretty irresistible opportunity."

Bruce laughed softly and leaned forward to kiss Tony. Tony kissed him for a long moment, and then said, "Wait, give me your hand." He took the ring out of the box and carefully slid it on Bruce's finger. Bruce smiled and reciprocated the gesture. 

Tony's heart swelled when noticed that Bruce had had the phrase "to the moon and back" engraved on the inside of Tony's band, and he immediately knew that he'd have to borrow back Bruce's ring to get it engraved to match.

"Now, where were we? Oh yeah," Tony said, and leaned in to kiss Bruce again, though his knees were starting to complain about their role in this romantic moment.

Blessedly, Bruce knew enough to stand up and pull Tony with him. "Tony?" 

"Yes, my love?"

"How long do we have to stay at this party?"

Tony grinned. "I at least want to go and see Miles. He said he was bringing some friends who were really excited to meet us. After that...eh, I don't think anyone would blame us for skipping out early. And if they do, well, fuck 'em, it’s our night."

They spent another quiet moment on the balcony. Tony leaned against Bruce and they looked up at the night sky together. "Hey Bruce?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you know which star it was?"

"What?"

"The lucky star that brought us together."

Bruce snorted and said, "Well, it's LA, so it was probably just light pollution."

"God, I love you so much," Tony said.

"I love you too, _obviously_." 

"Now let's get off this balcony so we can get started with the rest of our lives."

"You always have such good ideas, Tony." 

"I know." Tony took Bruce's hand and led him back to the party, thanking his lucky light pollution every step of the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Ahh! Make sure to check out[the amazing illustration of the proposal scene](http://twentyghosts.tumblr.com/post/182074837476/astrobruce-was-commissioned-by) that volunteerfd commissioned for me from astrobruce! *_***
> 
> **Also check out[this delightful drawing of Bruce, Tony, and Veronica](https://twentyghosts.tumblr.com/post/184502544326/mid-nighttiger-a-marveltrumpshate-art-for) that I got from mid-nighttiger in the [Marvel Trumps Hate](https://marveltrumpshate.tumblr.com/) auction!**
> 
>  
> 
> Hey! It's over! Thanks to everyone who's read this, but especial thanks to TiredScienceBro, smaller, StarkGalahad, Aerugonian, and everyone else whose early enthusiasm for this story made my heart grow three sizes. And thanks again to volunteerfd for being a great beta reader/emotional support human!
> 
> Finally, a few people had asked for more about about the Gamma Garcia books. I haven't written any more about them than what's included in this fic, but I can tell you that I envision them as being kind of a mashup of [Feed by M.T. Anderson](https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/169756.Feed) \+ [Marissa Meyer's Lunar Chronicles](https://www.goodreads.com/series/62018) \+ Star Wars, but with the cultural cachet of Harry Potter. Like, if J.K. Rowling had consistently declined all movies/theme parks/etc, and then after the all the midnight release parties for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, she flipped out at a comic con and disappeared to her Scottish castle for 10 years, never heard from again, not even via [weird tweets about the Hogwarts plumbing situation](https://twitter.com/pottermore/status/1081242428105998336)? That's basically this AU Bruce. 
> 
> (No one asked about this, but the goblin book Bruce is working on later is roughly inspired by [The Assassination of Brangwain Spurge by M.T. Anderson & Eugene Yelchin](https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/38526611-the-assassination-of-brangwain-spurge). Mostly I just want to give another shout out to M.T. Anderson because I think his books are great!)
> 
> No one asked for more about Tony's career either, but for the record I envision him as being kind of a mashup of like James Cameron (who helped invent new technologies for 3D and underwater filming in addition to his writing & directing work) + Ron Howard (in terms of having been a child star who grew up to get behind the camera). Plus the dynastic factor of say, Carrie Fisher (in addition to being rad in her own right, was famous as a kid for being the child of Eddie Fisher & Debbie Reynolds, huge stars of their era) and of course… that razzle-dazzley Tony Stark X-factor.
> 
> Also, [the Department of Defense's actual Hollywood liaison office](https://theoutline.com/post/3794/hollywood-propaganda-12-strong-phil-strub) is probably not as sinister as Thaddeus Ross, but I can't help but think they are at least [still kind of sinister](https://www.independent.co.uk/voices/hollywood-cia-washington-dc-films-fbi-24-intervening-close-relationship-a7918191.html) tbh.
> 
> OK that's all, thanks for reading, I love you, byeeee!


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